


Hold On

by suchabeautifuldisaster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchabeautifuldisaster/pseuds/suchabeautifuldisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game has been taken down now, but there used to be a game on the Teen Wolf facebook page called The Hunt. I played the whole thing (because I'm a huge loser and got excited about it), and decided why not, I'm going to write it! Some things have been changed, but for the most part I'm going along with the storyline as well as doing the original plot for season 2. Hopefully it's not terrible. </p>
<p>P.S.- I decided on a girl, so sorry to any guys that read this. I know that they weren't specific on gender, but it's my choice. </p>
<p>This is just the first part, a little bit of what I've pieced together. I have a bunch of future stuff that I've written in this verse, but I've decided to rewrite the beginning. If you've already read this, good for you! All the cookies for you. </p>
<p>P.P.S- I do not own anything, and Jeff Davis is secretly Danny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Scene Way, Way Into The Future (A year and a half, give or take) Hold On Draft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, here's the thing: I've been having huge writer's block. But i'm working on it! Anyways, here's a draft of hold on. i know it's very vague, and even i don't know too much myself. Basically, there's a group of dark witches that chris argent is very much on the bad side of, meaning that he's on the top of their shit list. meaning that if they even see him, they will kill him. on the spot. he did something awful to them a very long time ago, when he was young and stupid, and still carries the guilt with him. which brings on the thought that maybe he deserves to die at their hands, that things would be better if he just died. which brings the pack to his defense, and fighting for him (and also to have those witches leave, because they've been sacrificing people, jeesh). this is just a scene. I MAY right more, but i don't know yet. 
> 
> So tada!

“Don’t. Just don’t, okay? Don’t give up on her,” She says, the words coming out strangled. He looks at her, as if she’s something odd, tilting his head and crossing his arms over his chest.

She keeps going anyway, because she can’t stop now, and she wants him to understand. “You don’t get it. If she loses you… it’s everything. It’s a part of herself that she’ll never get back. And I know what you’re thinking right now, that she’ll be sad, she’ll grieve, and move on. She’ll think of you as a distant, happy memory. But it’s not like that. She can’t just compartmentalize the pain like you do. She’ll break. There’ll be, like, this crack in her heart that will never be fixed. It’s not the type of thing you just put a bandaid over. It’s permanent, an open wound.” She sniffles, and rubs at her eyes. Damnit, she’s crying. Of course.

His face, one that’s usually composed and hard as stone, is now more vulnerable than she’s ever seen it. The icy glare of his eyes has melted, and it takes everything in her to hold that stare. She almost doesn’t want to, because it’s painful.

“What else am I supposed to do?” His gruff voice _shakes_ , and it terrifies her. He’s Chris Argent, he’s always supposed to be one step ahead, always collected, always having a plan, always… sure.

This is not the man she knows. In his place is an actual _human being_ , with flaws and mistakes and doubtful of himself.

She doesn’t really have an answer for him. Her speech is done, what she wanted to say has been forced out of her mouth. She’s done what she could for Allison. She did what should’ve been done for her boyfriend, for Scott, years ago.

She sucks in a deep breath, and shoves her hands further into her jacket pockets. “Fight, I think. Fight to survive. Fight for her.” That’s what she would want, if her parents were facing death. Fight for their lives, because she thinks in the end, that’s all we can really do. Fight.

He shuts his eyes, and sighs. It’s a rough, suffering sound, and not for the first time she feels a pang of sympathy for the man that holds everything inside of him because he’s afraid of the explosion if he lets out so much as a whisper.

She’s seen the cold-hearted hunter, the over-protective dad, the grouchy man at the grocery store, and the loyal husband at the cemetery. But this version of him, She thinks, is the one she likes the most. It’s the one who kisses the top of hers and Ally’s head as he stumbles in for breakfast, with rumpled hair and a pillow crease decorating his cheek. It’s the one who helps out with pack training and even cracks jokes with Derek, of all people. It’s the one who thinks that no one sees it, but tries so hard to do things right, to think things through and find the right solution.

And now, it’s this one again, this man, who is struggling with the huge weight on his shoulders and is very close to letting it crush him.

“Just fight, Chris. You aren’t alone. You have all of us,” She adds quietly, hoping to break through to him, hoping that he’ll open his eyes, and straighten his shoulders. And fight.

He finally does open his eyes, and they’re definitely more controlled than they were minutes ago, but now that She’s seen it, the traces of the real him still linger.

He opens his mouth to speak, and then the door opens with a _bang!_ , causing her to jump and spin around on her heel in surprise.

“What are you guys doing in here?” Lydia asks, flipping her braid over one shoulder. She flicks the colt in her hand experimentally, a nervous habit of hers, before tucking it back inside it’s holster. Boyd and Jackson follow close behind her, transformed and looking ready to kill. They both spare her a nod, and she nods back, placing a small smile on her lips and hoping it’s not too fake.

She opens my mouth to respond, but Chris beats her to it as he reaches for his jacket over the chair. “Nothing, just discussing strategy. Calico, here-” She barely has time to hold out her hands when he tosses her a gun similar to Lydia’s. She clutches it with trembling fingers, her heart filling with dread as the coldness of the metal seeps into her skin. He slips his jacket over his shoulders and walks towards the door. As he passes her, he squeezes her shoulder, tight and firm. She meets his eyes, and they tell her everything she needs to know.

He’s going to fight. Till the very end.

Her smile turns genuine, and he breaks the stare, leaving her behind. She reaches over for the correct holster on the desk, feeling three pairs of eyes on her the whole entire time. She doesn’t say anything, knowing that by now she should wait for one of them to ask first. Her bets on Lyds. She remembers the curiosity in her tone from seconds ago. Just as she slips the gun in the holster and clips it to her jeans, her voice breaks through the silence.

However, it’s not what she expected her to say.

“Are you ready? Everyone else is outside.” She says cooly, all business. She turns around, already tugging at the hair tie on her wrist.

“Yep, ready as I’ll ever be.” She responds, pulling her hair back and up as she moves towards them. Lydia nods, and the other two boys head out, them following behind. She presses her shoulder to Callie’s, and she presses back. Even though the four of them look like a solid, steady unit, scary even, they are a mix of nerves and anxiety.

They don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. Lydia has made up boards, she’s done the stats and the math. She’s calculated how they should attack and where. She’s found our best situation in order for them to win. On paper, this looks very, very easy.

It’s when it gets to the real life stuff that complications and bleeding wounds happen.

She smooths her hair over her head, making sure that she doesn’t have to fix it. That there’s no bumps or loose ends. That at least in this mundane task, nothing can go wrong.

Because everything go could up in flames tonight. No pun intended. Their whole lives are at stake.

And yet right now her parents think she's having a sleepover at Allison’s tonight, safe and sound. If only things were that simple. But her life hasn’t been simple for a really long time.

The night air is cool and crisp, the wind ruffling their hair and making them shiver. Derek and Stiles are by the camaro, heads bent close and whispering. Isaac’s leaning against the jeep, but he pushes himself up when he sees them. There’s no faking her smile as he comes closer, and her hands reach out for him, seeking his warm skin and gentle touch. Her whole body sighs in relief when their fingers tangle together, and then he’s ducking his head down, and she only has to go on her tip-toes just a little bit, just enough… for her lips to meet his.

It’s a quick kiss, a reassurance that they’re both here in this moment, that they’ve done this before. That everything might be okay.

They don’t know that, but as her lips move against his, his body relaxes next to Callie’s, the tension thrumming within him loosening just a bit.

She sighs, pulling away just enough so that they’re just holding hands. He squeezes her fingers tight, almost too-tight, but it’s okay. She tries to squeeze back just as hard, showing him that I’m here, and yes, I’m scared too. His only response is to kiss her cheek, and then tug her closer.

“Where’s Ally and Scott?” She murmurs, looking up at him. Isaac’s eyes map out every feature of her face, as if he’s trying to remember everything as it is. She almost shoves him, telling him to stop, that they’re going to get through this, when he says, “They’re at Deaton’s, grabbing something from him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, they should be here soon, though. Probably not too long now,” He babbles lightly, but she hears the undercurrent of worry underneath. Always worried about all of them, wanting to know if they’re okay and if there’s anything he can do. It’s a part of him, this overprotective, sensitive side, but she feels a pang of anger towards the man who always made him feel like he should always be doing something, that he should always be on edge.

In times like this, this side of Isaac is amplified, infecting the pack with it’s buzzing, never-ceasing anxiety. Callie already feels it, deep in her bones, and knows that as long as he’s like this, she will be as well.

“Hey, guess what?” She manages in a teasing voice. She spins and faces him, grabbing his other hand. He blinks, shocked at her change in mood, but his lips tug up in a tiny smile. She stretches up on her tip-toes, meeting him nose-to-nose as he ducks his head.

“What?” He whispers against their lips.

“ _I_. _Love_. _You_.” She says between each kiss, and he laughs, winding an arm around her waist. It’s a quiet, private sound that makes her insides turn into jelly and wish that not for once, they were just a boy and a girl. Nothing less, nothing more.

But as his kiss turns a little needy and just a slight edge of desperate, his mouth searing her own, she knows she wouldn’t change a thing. Not when she’s kissing him back with the same need, feeling like this could be the last night they’ll be alive and wanting to spend forever with a boy who she never really noticed a year ago.

“Get a room you too!” Jackson hollers, and Callie pulls away with a giggle, feeling her cheeks flush. Leave it to Jackson to bring them back to reality. As if him and Lydia weren’t nauseating at all. Isaac groans, leaning his forehead against hers for a moment, before peering over her head.

“I’ll remember that the next time you and Lyds insist on having the laundry room door closed because you guys have ‘ _meaningful conversations_ ’,” Callie feels his smirk and the shaking of his shoulders, and snorts. Boyd’s loud guffaw is heard, as well as Erica’s cackle. Callie knows without a doubt that Lydia is shaking her head while Jackson’s face flushes a very unattractive shade of red.

“Just wait till training, Lahey-” Jackson’s half-assed threat is cut off by the twin grumpy responses of Stiles and Derek’s “ _Shut it_ Jackson.”

Jackson’s sputtering and Erica’s ribbing floats away as Isaac’s lips brush her ear. Callie shivers, snuggling in closer.

“Guess what?” He lightly drags his mouth down the skin of her jaw until his lips meet hers once again. Her fingers creep up his back, curling into his leather jacket.

“What?” She says against his mouth, trying not to smile.

She squeals in surprise as he dips her, hiding her face in his chest as her sense of gravity is abruptly shifted. He keeps her steady and close, his quiet laugh back and curling around her ear like her favorite song. Then, there’s a large hand with long fingers cupping her cheek, gently moving her head so that they’re face to face.

“You’re my girl.” He whispers, grinning as if it’s some top level secret that everyone else is dying to know. Much to the moaning of their pack, they _do_ know. Callie feels very shy in that moment, but keeps her eyes on his. She can’t help herself, she’s already getting lost in those blue eyes that have become her home in a way nowhere else could. Even after he’s told her this so many times… those words still cause her heart to race and her brain turn to mush.

Damn him. Damn him and his adorable curls and sharp jaw and mesmerizing eyes and pink cheeks…

Before she even realizes it herself she’s kissing him again, her hands sliding up and into his hair. He sighs, a deep, contented sound that causes her to shiver in it’s wake.


	2. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I can't sleep so I edited and finished chapter one. Enjoy!

“Hey! Hey Calico!” A voice hollers amidst the chaotic chatter of high school students in the hallway. She cringes at the use of her full name; hardly anyone ever calls her that anymore, except for her parents when they’re mad at her.

Reluctantly, she stops, moving to the side so that she doesn’t get trampled by the people who were behind her. Turning around, she spots a boy with pale skin and a buzz cut waving spastically at her. Oh god. Is that Stiles Stilinski?

When she slowly raises a hand back to him, she watches with horror and the urge to laugh as he scrambles around other people to get to her, tripping and causing irritation more than once. He almost face plants when he reaches her, and before she realizes it her hands shoot out, taking hold of his shoulders.

“Woahhh. Sorry. I’m not the most graceful person.” Stiles pants, and she can’t help but smile at how ridiculous he is. She lets him go and he straightens himself out. His face is a little red, probably from embarrassment, but other than that he looks mostly unscathed.

“Sooo, Calico-” He starts, and she cringes again, her lips turning down into a scowl. It’s not like she hates her name, exactly, but come on Mom, Calico? Who names their kid that?

“It’s um, Callie actually. I go by that.” She says, and suppresses another laugh as his face flushes again, and he scratches the back of his head awkwardly.

“Oh! Sorry. I already said that, didn’t I? I get it, my name kind of sucks too, it’s why I go by Stiles. Not that your name sucks or anything…” Stiles babble dies quickly when he takes in the weirded out look on her face. Maybe she should just walk away and get lost in the crowd. She does have to get to AP History, after all.

Shit. Another second just standing here and she’ll be late. And he’s not worth being late for a class.

“Was there something you needed from me, or?” She asks impatiently, already done with the conversation.

He nods vigorously, his whole body moving with the simple motion. Callie gets the feeling that he’s always moving.

“Yeah, well, you see… do you know Lydia Martin?” Stiles plasters on a completely innocent expression, but the prying flicker of his amber eyes totally gives him away. Callie huffs out a sigh and turns around.

“We’re neighbors.”

“Oh? So are you guys like friends? Best friends? Soul sisters?” He prods, stumbling after her when Callie starts to finally walk away. This guy has a mouth, jeesh. She imagines his questions like multiple choice answers.

She would circle none of the above. 

Callie knew Lydia just as much as her classmates did. She was beautiful, she was bitchy, and she walked down the hallways of Beacon Hills High School like she owned the place. Other than once in awhile being forced to go to the Martin household for dinner, Callie never saw her outside of school. Ever.

“I’m guessing that I’m as close to her as you are.” She answers him dryly, and he squawks beside her.

“Hey! That’s rude. We could totally be friends. Maybe even more.” There’s a pathetic hopefulness to his voice, and for his sake she resists rolling her eyes. Stiles was cute in that nerdy way, but he was no match for Lydia. Besides, didn’t she have the co-captain of the lacrosse team wrapped around her manicured finger?

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you go to the dance last weekend?” He asks, and she turns her head to narrow her eyes at him in suspicion. Seriously? What’s with all the weird questions? This is the most attention she’s gotten from a guy in months, and of course it’s the one that Erica’s half in love with.

“Yes, Stiles. I went to the dance.”

Unfortunately. She was checking people in at the door, NHS duties and all that. She wouldn’t be caught dead at a dance. The too loud music, the humping, disgusting “dancing” that couples did on the dance floor was just… no. Oh, and then someone spikes the punch and if you go to the dance single (she would be this person), you get to stand there awkwardly during the slow songs while hoping that someone will decide to take your hand.

But, you know, it’s high school. So that almost never happens unless you’re in a movie or you’re uncontrollably gorgeous. And Callie is a negative for both.

She doesn’t see that Stiles’ eyes had lit up at her answer, and she almost doesn’t hear his excited rambling when he responds.

“So you saw that Lydia-” Just then, the bell rings and Callie spies her destinated classroom on the other side of the hallway.

“I gotta go, class. Bye!” She calls over her shoulder, not even denying that she practically sprints to the door. Whew. She’s inside the classroom and at her usual seat in the front row when the bell stops ringing.

She feels a little guilty about leaving Stiles, but then again, he’s not worth being late to a class for. Even though she could probably afford it, given that she’s the principal’s aide.

Oh well.

 

*********

 

Callie (11:20): I talked to your boo today.

 

**Erica (11:21): I don’t know who you’re talking about.**

 

Callie: (11:21): Yes, yes you do. He’s got quite a mouth on him, that’s for sure. He never shuts up.

 

**Erica: (11:22): Hey! He just has a lot to say. And his mouth is adorable.**

 

Callie (11:23): Oh yeah, totallllly. He’s single, but you know that.

 

**Erica: (11:24): And you know that everyone sees me as the girl who pissed herself in eighth grade, right?**

 

Callie (11:24): Stop that. He’d be lucky to date you. You’re awesome and you make the best pizza.

 

**Erica: (11:26): Ah yes, because he’ll overlook my ability to convulse at any given time because of my cooking skills.**

Callie: (11:26): You are such a poop.

 

**Erica: (11: 27): Ew.**

 

Callie (11: 27): :)

 

**Erica: (11:29): I hate you.**

 

Callie (11:30): The friendship keychains make so much more sense now!

 

**Erica (11:31): It’s all a lie, I’m using you for your dog and your shower.**

 

Callie (11: 31): I’m pretty sure my parents love Donna more than me:(

 

**Erica (11: 32): I can see why.**

 

Callie: (11:33): :((((((((

 

**Erica: (11:34): :***

 

Shaking her head with a smile, Callie pushes her phone into her back pocket. She’s twisting the knob of her lock, planning on grabbing her Chemistry textbook, when there’s a hand on her shoulder. She jumps, whirling around to see… Stiles. Again. He at least has the decency to look a little bit sheepish, and his hand is already gone and joins his other in holding them up in surrender. Callie raises her eyebrows, and folds her arms across her chest.

“What is it now?”

Gone is the innocence from earlier, or even the blushing boy who almost fell on the linoleum. Now there’s a young man with a look in his eyes as if he’s seen too much. He doesn’t move except for the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“Look, there’s just… I know you’re the principal’s aide, and that you practically do all of the secretary’s work during your study hall periods. Which means that you have access to files. Like the security files, where the footage from all the cameras are kept.” He keeps his voice low, leaning his head down. Callie purses her lips. She hadn’t noticed that people actually knew what she did, or better yet, cared. She was just another face here. Nothing more, nothing less.

What is he getting at with the video footage? While she does have access to it, she’s been told not to touch it, by any means. It’s off-limits, a cookie jar to definitely not open.

With a heaving sigh, she gestures her hands as if to say, go on.

Callie can’t help it, she’s curious.

His eyes widen a bit, almost surprised that she’s actually listening. “You remember the night at the dance, right? Lydia was taken away in an ambulance.” The last part comes out cracked, as if saying it was painful. Her focus drifts away for a second, wondering why he was so obsessed with an ice queen when he could go after her best friend, who actually gives a damn about him, but she lets the thought slip away.

She does remember that night, but there’s not much to it. There was a bit of commotion, a few girls going “oh my god!” and then the blaring of the ambulance and it’s flashing blue and red lights. Callie didn’t see Lydia Martin get taken away, but she did notice her Abercrombie boyfriend holding a phone to his ear and looking like his whole world was falling apart around him.

But that’s all she saw.

Wait. The video cameras. There’s one everywhere inside the school, and outside… she heard the whispers this past week of something happening on the football field, that Lydia was raped, or sneaking around with a teacher… there’s a camera on top of the concession stand. It had a perfect view of the football field.

“You want me to delete the video.” Callie breathes.

But why?

“Yeah. I do.” Stiles shoves his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumping, but those amber eyes never leave her face.

“It’s school property Stiles.”

“I know.”

“Like, I could get expelled for that.”

This time the sigh comes from Stiles, but it’s stressed. “I get that. If anything happens, blame me. Tell them that I was with you in the office, you had to go to the bathroom or something, and when you left I went on the computer and did it.”

Unbelievable. He’s unbelievable.

“Is she really worth all of this? Is it that important that no one else sees it?” She asks incredulously. She gets having a crush, but this is waaaaay overboard for unrequited love. Lydia Martin is no saint. In fact, she’s probably closer to hell. She’s not worth it.

Looking at the determined pale face, Callie realizes that Lydia isn’t good enough for Stiles, either.

“She is. So please just... do it.” And with that, he’s gone. She watches him walk away, and knows that her mind’s already made up.

Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh.

“I don’t wannnna.” She moans, and lets her head fall into her still closed locker.

 

*********

Callie stares at the computer screen, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She doesn’t have to do this. She doesn’t have to do this. She doesn’t even know Stiles, they aren’t even friends. All that she knows about him is that he’s the Sheriff’s kid, is attached to an equally awkward tanned boy, and is apparently in love with Lydia Martin.

It’s not enough, and Callie knows that. She groans, dragging a restless hand through her long hair.

So why is she still considering the idea of deleting the video? She doesn’t owe Stiles anything, she certainly as hell doesn’t owe Lydia princess bitch Martin… maybe she’s being a little harsh. But she remembers Erica tripping and falling to the floor in the hallway freshman year, her books going everywhere, and Lydia was there, she could’ve offered her best friend a hand, helped her pick up her things.

But no. Just as Callie came to Erica’s rescue, the red head simply threw her perfectly styled curls over her shoulder and sneered “Watch it, loser.”

So yeah. Maybe she doesn’t like Lydia Martin. At all. Even if she was just a regular person, Callie wouldn’t want to help either. The footage is school property, and Callie knows for a fact that Principal Nichols checks all of it.

Once in awhile.

Ugh. What was so special about the footage, anyway?

Why did it have to be deleted? Was Stiles just doing Lydia Martin’s bidding, or was it for his own reasons? Was he on the tape?

Curiosity bubbles inside of her, and she doesn’t even try to stomp it down. Maybe if she just watches it. Just five seconds, just to see. If it’s that bad, she’ll delete it.

Yeah, totally. She’ll watch it and then delete it, and tell Stiles not to bug her about it ever again. And to maybe pick his brain and see if he’s into blondes.

If there’s one person she’ll help, it’s Erica.

After checking around to see that other than Ms. Morrell, who has her door shut to her own office, that no one is around, she makes her decision. With shaky fingers, Callie quickly clicks through the files until she finds the one labeled “Security Footage”. After that, she goes through several clips until finding the ones that are the most recent. She sees one with a picture of a dark sky and the football, and clicks on it.

Callie lowers the volume so that it’s almost on mute, and takes one last sweeping look. The coast is clear, she thinks, and sucks in a breath.

She presses ‘play’.

There’s Lydia Martin, all dolled up and… walking on the football field. She seems a bit lost, her head turning this way and that. Since the sound is practically nonexistent, Callie can only watch the other girl’s lips move as she keeps moving.

Then, out of nowhere, there’s a guy. Tall, handsome, decked out in a leather jacket. He might even look friendly if it weren’t for the creepy smirk on his face. Callie suddenly gets a bad feeling. A really, really bad feeling. It almost makes her click out of the video, but she sits on her hands, forcing herself to watch.

The man’s face begins to change, hair growing along his jawline and his eyebrows disappearing into an enlarged, bumpy forehead. His eyes flash red, and… fangs? Yep, those are fangs. Not the shitty ones you can get out of a toy machine at the grocery store, or the ones you buy at a Halloween store.

She can only watch as the man-creature- opens his horrible mouth and lets out what seems to be a roar, and Lydia Martin freezes, her pretty face falling into dread. She doesn’t even have the time to run, or turn around to face her fate.

Callie covers her mouth as the mancreaturething appears right behind her classmate and wraps a clawed hand around her ankle. Lydia instantly pummels to the ground, her mouth opening to what is probably a scream, and she digs her fingernails into the dirt, trying with all her might to not be dragged away.

The last thing Callie sees is mancreaturething biting Lydia Martin’s side, and blood goes everywhere- and then the screen cuts to black. It’s over. She lets go of the breath she was holding, and feels her heart race in her chest.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

That wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. No. No. It wasn’t possible.

It’s real Callie. You saw it. Who would go through that much trouble to what, scare you? You’re just a face with a name in this school. Nothing more, nothing less.

She had it all wrong. Stiles didn’t want her to delete the video because of his obsession with Lydia Martin… but because if anyone saw this, there would be chaos. Reporters, the police… Beacon Hills would be in the papers and a topic for discussion on the TV for weeks.

That is, if they even believe it.

Does she? She’s read books. She watches TV, she’s seen enough movies. She knows about supernatural creatures, but they aren’t supposed to exist. They aren’t supposed to try to eat your classmate against their will.

Is Lydia Martin even at the hospital? Do they have any idea what’s happened to her?

How does Stiles even know? Does anyone else? She thinks of the other kid that’s always with him. Is he in on it?

Ugh. Callie should have never have watched this. She should’ve just deleted it, or told Stiles she did the next day so that he’d stop pestering her about it.

It’s a no brainer now though. There’s no hesitance when she drags the video to the trashcan, dropping it in and watching it disappear immediately. If only the memory of watching it would go away too.

Whatever that guy was… he couldn’t be a vampire, right? His eyes were red… and there were claws. He didn’t look unusually pale. Then there was the ridged forehead and the weird sideburns. Vampires don’t have that, right? Thinking back on it, Callie also noticed that the nose was widened, reminding her of her dog’s muzzle… no.

No. But the claws. And the fangs. They looked like they were used to rip apart flesh. And when he howled- it looked like an animal.

Werewolf. It wasn’t the _Twilight_ version with the actual wolves, but it made sense?

No Callie, this doesn’t make any sense at all. This is crazy.

She slumps in the swirly chair, and feels like screaming. What is she going to do? Is there anything she can do?

If there’s one thing Callie hates, it’s not knowing things. Once she gets a scrap of information, she needs more; she needs it all.

She sees Google in her future tonight, and facepalms.

She really hates Stiles Stilinski, but not as much as she hates herself. Why couldn’t everything be as it was five minutes ago?

“Because you just had to watch it, dumb ass.” Callie mutters to herself.

Werewolves. Fucking werewolves. She’s never going to wrap her head around that. Ever. 


	3. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Here's chapter two. Things are going to be slow for awhile, but i promise things will get more interesting. Also, it's been awhile since I played the game. I have screen shots of specific convos, so i will go with some of them, but for a lot of this it's just my interpretation. 
> 
> P.S.-Yes, there will be sterek, for any shippers reading this. But it won't be for a LONG time. I love slow build. 
> 
> P.P.S.-I know that Erica didn't seizure/pee i the eighth grade, but my timeline's different. 
> 
> P.P.P.S (lot's of p's today)- I picture Callie to look like Shailene Woodley, if any of you guys care. 
> 
> Lastly, hope you guys enjoy, and I appreciate all the stuffs that you leave. It means a bunch.
> 
> I do not own anything, and Jeff Davis is allergic to cotton candy.

_A werewolf, also known as a lycanthrope is a mythological or folkloric human with the ability to shapeshift into a wolf or a therianthropic hybrid wolf-like creature-_

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_Even if you've never seen the 1941 film "The Wolf Man," you probably know what it takes to kill a werewolf -- a silver bullet. That's because "The Wolf Man" did for …_

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_Does your significant other call you an animal -- and not in a good way? Well, you're either extra quirky or you're a werewolf. Take this quiz to find out what's…_

__

_\- excessive body hair,_

_\- bushy, often connected, brows (so-called 'unibrow'),_

_\- sharp, reddish nails,_

_\- dry lips and conjunctiva,_

_\- bloodied eyes._

“Whatcha up to?” A voice asks from Callie’s door. She jumps in her chair, her hand fumbling with the mouse to minimize her tabs. She looks up to see her Mom leaning against the door frame wearing an expression that’s a mixture of fondness and exasperation.

It’s a typical look that Callie is on the receiving end of. “Um, nothing. Just school stuff.” She drawls, running a hand through her hair. Her Mom narrows her eyes at her.

“I see. What kind of school stuff?”

Oh, you know. Just researching werewolves and trying to figure out if my classmate is now one or got eaten. Also wondering how they even exist, because three hours ago everything was perfectly normal.

“Julius Ceasar essay. It’s due Thursday, so.” Callie bites her lip and shrugs. Nonchalantly. You know, because she’s totally great at lying.  She couldn’t even hide that she stole Erica’s cookies out of her lunch box in seventh grade. All her best friend had to do was say “Where could they be?” and she cracked.

Her Mom lets out a dramatic groan. “Ugh, books.”

“Books are amazing!”

“Books are for nerds like you and your Dad.” Her Mom’s wide brown eyes sparkle with amusement, and Callie can’t help but laugh. Her parents are complete opposites, and yet they’re madly in love. Who could’ve known that an English Literature Professor and an owner of an Autobody Shop could work out?

“Sooo is there a reason that you rudely interrupted me and my glorious essay?” Callie asks with a smirk, and watches as her Mom rolls her eyes.

“Cute, kiddo. It’s dinnertime so get your ass downstairs.” So quick that Callie doesn’t even see it, her Mom whips out her greasy pink rag from her back pocket and _smacks_ her daughter’s arm.

“Hey! That’s child abuse!” Callie yells after her snickering Mom who’s already left.

Again, rude.

******

Callie doesn’t get much sleep that night. She tosses and turns, but in every comfortable position her mind keeps thinking about the video she deleted.

Was it even the right thing to do? Should she have just kept it there, and hope that Principal Nichols doesn’t notice it? _Nope, that’s stupid_ , she realizes. Whatever happened to Lydia Martin is obviously going to bring the police to the school, and they’re going to want to see any evidence of what happened that night. Including the part where she was brutally dragged across the football field by a werewolf.

Again, werewolves. Where could she even begin? It doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t. But then again, she figures that if a person has been told that something doesn’t exist their whole life and it now suddenly _does_ , there’s definitely going to be doubt. Honestly, she’s kind of disappointed that werewolves don’t turn into actual wolves.

They’re cute okay? Wouldn’t you want a giant fluffy wolf protector?

Stop with the _Twilight_ references Callie, it’s bad enough that you’ve read them all.

She sighs in frustration into her pillow. What’s Stiles’ part in all of this? Is he trying to protect the werewolf that mauled the ice queen? It wouldn’t make sense, since the way he talked about Lydia Martin, it was like she was the most important thing in his world. She doesn’t think Stiles’ is the bad guy. The pale, gangly teen would probably hurt himself sooner than he’d injure a fly.

So what is it then?

Maybe the boyfriend?

She remembers him standing outside the school, his tux ruffled and expensive phone pressed to his ear. She has no idea what he was saying though, it was only a glimpse. Damn.

Callie can’t tell Erica about this. She just… can’t. She already wants out of knowing, and she doesn’t want to drag her best friend into it too. She already has enough on her plate, with her mother practically non-existent and struggling with classes.

Besides, Erica isn’t the type to believe in this kind of stuff, even if she saw the video. She would laugh and then point out all the “fake” stuff, and then add that the guy was hot.

Callie really doesn’t want to. _At all_.

But she has to talk to Stiles tomorrow. She has to know what exactly is going on.

“Fuck my life.” Callie moans into her pillow, and squeezes her eyes shut, praying to the god that she doesn’t believe in (unless there’s security footage of that too) to let her sleep.

Sleep never comes.

******

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Stiles! Wait up!” Callie calls out in the hallway, seeing the back of a familiar red hoodie. Seriously, does he live in that thing? He stops abruptly, as does the boy next to him, causing others to bump into them.

She catches up to them just as the two turn around, and Callie recognizes the other boy as Scott McCall. He’s the one that’s usually around Stiles… they’re best friends right? Maybe? Oh who cares.

Stiles’ face lights up, while Scott just looks confused at her even acknowledging them.

“Hey! Did you… you know… _delete_ it?” The pale boy lowers his voice and uses air quotes. Scott stares in bewilderment at his best friend, before his brown eyes widen in realization.

“Wait! This is her?” He asks, and it’s Callie’s turn to give him a look of her own.

“I’m assuming that he has no idea you bugged me yesterday.” She says dryly, and Stiles’ face turns sheepish.

“Yes, Scott. This is Callie, hopefully our savior in deleting the video.” He gives her a wide smile, but she merely rolls her eyes. Scott’s whole body stiffens, and he no longer looks like a puzzled puppy but a guy with a lot of weight on his shoulders.

Seriously, what is with these guys?

“I watched it.” Callie admits, and starts to walk away, hoping that they’ll follow along. She really doesn’t want to be late for class. Gotta love Chemistry.

“WHAT!” The two boys yell in unison, and Callie almost wants to laugh. They scramble after her, one on each side.

“You watched the video? You were just supposed to delete it! That’s all! Nothing else! No peeking!” Stiles practically squeaks, his arms flailing. Scott’s face is filled with dread, and yeah… now Callie feels a little bit guilty.

“I got curious! And I did delete it afterwards.” She mutters, and runs a hand through her hair.

“We can’t talk about this here.” Scott’s voice is barely over a whisper, but he sounds serious. She darts a glance at him, and sees that his crooked jaw is set tightly and that his strides are determined.

“We aren’t going to talk about this at all! Look, Calico-” Stiles starts, but the glare that Callie shoots him causes his face to flush.

“ _Callie_ , sorry.” He huffs out exasperatedly. “You weren’t supposed to see that video. No one here was, that was the point of me telling you to delete it. Just forget about the video. Don’t tell anyone. It’s none of your business, and well… it’s not like anyone here will believe you anyway.”

Callie steps right in front of his path, causing him to stop just inches away from her. Up close, she can see the dark circles under his eyes and the chewed up lips, probably from stress. A pang of sympathy rolls around her again, but she stamps it down.

“Look, I watched it, okay? I can’t go back and erase what I saw.” She feels Scott a few steps away, his eyes on her back.

“I believe whatever was on that video. It’s… it’s too real to think that it’s fake.” She suppresses a shudder. “I don’t trust you, or him-” She looks over her shoulder at Scott, who hasn’t moved a muscle, before returning her steady gaze back to Stiles, “but I want to know about werewolves, or whatever the hell is going on with this town.”

Stiles’ amber eyes study her face for a long time, his face shifting through anger, frustration, and worry. Just as he’s about to open his mouth, Scott’s voice beats him to it.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Callie. If we tell you, it’s our secret. There’s lives at stake.” She blinks, shocked that she’s actually gotten through. She spins around on her heel, facing the tanned boy.

“I wasn’t planning on it. And from what Stiles said, there’s no one that would believe me anyway.” She says, and Scott nods solemnly.

“Come to lacrosse practice. We’ll… figure something out.” And with that, he leaves, heaving his backpack higher on his shoulder.

“What- DUDE!” Stiles exclaims, and rushes after him.

Well, she thinks, that went easier than I thought it would.

The bell rings with a clang, and just- no.

She’s never been late to class _ever_.

“Shit shit shit shit.” She grumbles, and races down the hallway to get to class.

******

“How’s it going today Boyd?” Callie asks, passing the boulder of a guy his usual Diet Coke. Erica snickers when he merely gives them the head nod that hasn’t changed since freshman year. It means that it’s the two girls’ ‘go ahead’ to sit at the table. It kind of goes like this: Callie makes sure that at lunch, Boyd gets his soda. In return, her and Erica are allowed to sit at his table and not be bugged by anyone else that tries to sit there.

This systems works wonders, really. One glare from Vernon Boyd has people scurrying to the other side of the room. Callie did this for Erica’s benefit after noticing how sad she was when they would eat lunch in the library. Let’s just put it frankly that, well…

People are huge, ignorant assholes that like to pull out the video that some other asshole took of Erica seizuring and then peeing herself in eighth grade. Then show it to her, then laugh, then talk about what a freak show she is, because why the hell not?

But Erica missed having lunch in the actual cafeteria, which Callie does not understand at all, because, hello, assholes… but she forced herself to talk to Boyd (who she really thought was going to strangle her when she cornered him after gym class), and worked this out.

_Tada_ , now they get to sit in a stuffy room with a bunch of screaming idiots. Every girl’s wet dream.

Not.

“Hey dorkatron, are you even listening?” Erica waves a hand in front of Callie’s face. She blinks, zooming back into the real world, where her best friend is currently wearing an expression that mirrors Callie’s Mom’s almost perfectly. You’d think that they’re mother and daughter.

“Why must you lower my self esteem? I might have to start therapy right now, just because you called me ‘dorkatron’.” Callie fake pouts, and Erica rolls her brown eyes and throws a french fry at her head. Callie, surprisingly (she usually can never do this) _catches_ it in her mouth.

“Haha! You suck, I’m awesome!” Callie crows, laughing at the actual pout on her best friend’s face.

“I really hate you. A lot.” Erica grumbles. Callie laughs, unscrewing her water bottle.

“You love me. I’m a fucking delight.”

“More like a fucking dorkatron.”

“So creative.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

******

True fact about Callie Tyler: She’s never been to lacrosse practice. Or a game. Ever. She gets that sports can be cool and all… but she’s not a huge fan or anything. And she’s definitely not one of those groupie girls that don’t know anything about the sport at all except how nice the guy’s butts look in their shorts, and then giggle and huddle together on the bleachers.

Yep, not her.

The butts though, she can understand that.

Callie feels awkward walking towards the metal bleachers, and _denies_ that she blushes when the other girls look at her when she tries to find a seat that’s away from everyone else. It’s cold today, okay? Totally not from embarrassment. In fact, it’s a chilly seventy-five degrees.

Shut up.

Callie ends up finding a spot waaaay up top to the right, and settles down. At least she has her ipod so that she can’t obsess over the whispering and giggling, and wonder if it’s about her.

Wow, she kind of feels bad for these guys. Coach Finstock makes them start off practice with twenty suicides. Yuck. What a nice guy. Callie can see Stiles towards the back of the sweating maroon jerseys, panting and stumbling. However, he keeps going, even those his face looks like someone just kneed him in the balls. _Good for him_ , she thinks.

His best friend seems not be doing well, but extremely well, leading the team with ease. Even so far away, she’s ninety percent sure that he isn’t even breaking a sweat. Damn.

Is that even possible? Or is he just another one of those perfect human beings who are naturally awesome at everything, and then everyone hates them?

Callie laughs as she watches Lydia Martin’s boyfriend struggle to keep up with Scott, but it’s no use. Scott has such a big lead that he would have to sprain his ankle or something just to slow down.

After that though, it gets pretty boring other than the insults Coach Finstock loves to throw out at his players. Poor Greenburg. The weirdo of a Coach manages to compare the guy to monkey poop, an old woman (rude), and a snail in one sentence.

What a true genius. He should be teaching English instead of Economics.

Scott’s eyes find her after an hour, and to her surprise, he waves. Not a head nod, or a glare, but a wave. It’s a bit weak, a little sheepish, but she’ll take it. She offers him a small smile, and when Stiles realizes what’s going on, he scowls.

Cute. What does Erica see in him again?

Finally, and she means finally, because that was literally the worst experience of her life (and she’s been stuck in the car with her parents bickering over the radio for six hours), Coach Finstock tells them to hit the showers.

While the group of girls descend from the bleachers like they’re meeting Adam Levine, Callie takes her time. Scott’s eyes are already on her again, and Stiles is busying himself by packing up his gear.

“Hi.” She says when she reaches the two boys. Stiles doesn’t even glance up from his bag.

“Are you sure you want to know this?” Scott asks, his dark eyes studying her face. Giving her a last out, a last time to simply walk away and act like nothing has happened in the last twenty-four hours.

She finds herself studying him back, taking in (hah, she was so right, he wasn’t sweating) the rumpled black hair, the too-tight shoulders, and the eyes that look like they’ve seen way too much.

Why does she want to know? It’s none of her business.

It’s not just my curiosity, she realizes with a shock. The feeling spreads through her immediately, almost choking her with it’s intensity.

_Excitement._

She wants more than working in the main office. She wants more than always arriving on time to class (today doesn’t count). She wants more than walking her dog every day and watching her parents tease each other across the dinner table and giving Boyd his soda and making sure that Erica isn’t bullied and…

Callie wants to be scared, afraid, nervous, brave… she wants to feel the adrenaline pump through her veins. She wants to know what goes bump in the night.

She wants this. Desperately.

“I’m positive.” She breathes, shakily running a hand through her hair. She meets his eyes this time, and something in them seem to change. Acceptance?

“Okay.” He nods, and flashes a smile that’s so tiny that she almost thinks it was never there to begin with. He turns around, grabs his bag, and starts walking away.

“Ugh. Why didn’t I ever get a choice?” Stiles complains, throwing his bulging bag over his shoulder.

“Because you’re the one who wanted to see a dead body.” Scott calls over his shoulder in exasperation, and Stiles huffs. Callie gives him a weird look but he waves it off.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He grumbles, and nudges her to start moving.

She does, but not after lightly shoving him, just to see what he does.

He squawks. He flails. She laughs.

“I already hate her Scott!” Stiles yells after his best friend, but when Callie sneaks a look at his face, his amber eyes flicker with amusement.


	4. In Which Scott Hates Skittles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> This took a few more days, because I'm trying to figure out my timeline while also struggling to remember what happened in The Hunt. As I said before, the first five or six chapters is me setting up the pace for the rest of the story, so don't expect any action for a little while. Bear with me, it'll start to get interesting. 
> 
> Also, I was going to put Allison in this chapter but with the scenes I planned everything got reaaaaaally long, so next chapter you will definitely see her, as well as a few more characters I'm excited about. 
> 
> P.S.- for any Erica fans, she's not in this chapter:(, but will be in the next one!
> 
> P.P.S.- for anyone who's deciding to read this thank you! It means a bunch!
> 
> P.P.S.- If you guys have any questions, feel free to comment below and I'll answer! Or if you want, my tumblr username is shaniacantdance
> 
> P.P.P.S (damn all these p's): hope you're all having a good day and love the update! Expect the next chapter on either Friday or Sunday.
> 
> I do not own anything, and Jeff Davis hates puppies

“This is my precious, wild, beautiful Jeep named Holly. Holly, this is Callie.” Stiles announces proudly when they reach a light blue Jeep in the parking lot. _You’ve got to be kidding me_ , Callie thinks, watching as he pats the hood… lovingly? Not even pat, unfortunately he’s caressing it?

She takes it back. She doesn’t want to know anymore. She wants to get away from this weirdo and his weirdo fetish with his Jeep. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Scott covering his mouth with his hand, but a fond smile still peeks through. Oh, fine.

“Hi Holly, how are you doing today?” She plasters a wide smile on her face and waves. Fucking _waves_. She hates herself already. She thinks the look on Stiles’ face is priceless though, because he obviously expected Callie to roll her eyes and make fun of him. Trust her, there was a million zooming around in her mind, but she held back. Beside her, Scott laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, no laughing! She was just giving my car the respect it DESERVES!” Stiles exclaims, and now to Callie’s surprise, he gives her a smile. Not one of those fake smiles that makes his face look really creepy. It’s genuine, tugging up his lips crookedly and scrunching up the skin around his eyes adorably. Callie now sees why Erica’s been making googly eyes at him since forever. Huh.

Why hasn’t anyone scooped him up yet?

Then again, he just fondled his Jeep, and gave it a name.

“Yeah, don’t hate.” Callie smiles at him back (she’s not faking it anymore, because she’s nice, sheesh) and nudges Scott’s shoulder. He finally quiets down, but his face is still bright with amusement.

“Since when did you name your Jeep?”

“Since I decided to make our relationship public.” Again with the fondling. Callie already feels like she’s interrupting a private moment, for crying out loud.

“I don’t know how you’re going to break the news to Lydia Martin.” Callie teases, and just like that, the two boy’s faces fall.  Stiles’ amber eyes dim, and his shoulders slump. Scott sighs roughly beside her. Wow, she’s just awesome today.

“Sorry. That was really shitty of me.” Callie mutters.

This is why she doesn’t have other friends. It makes sense now. It’s not because she’s best friends with Erica Reyes, but because she has horrible people skills.

“Well, she’s kind of missing at the moment, so I’ll probably never get to tell her.” Stiles’ joke falls flat and bitter. He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground.

Wait, she’s gone? How?

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Callie asks, turning to Scott when it looks like Stiles has nothing else to say except to examine his Converse. The tanned boy has that world weary expression on his face again, his dark eyes solemn. It makes him seem years older than sixteen, and the same sympathy that stirred inside Callie earlier is back again.

“She’s not at the hospital anymore. When Stiles and I went to check on her last night… she was just gone.” His brow furrows, and it’s as if Callie can see the wheels turning in his head. Suddenly, he shakes it off, and strides toward the passenger side of the Jeep.

“So she just left? Without checking out or anything? What about her parents?” Callie calls after him, finding herself following behind. The boy opens the door and then moves aside, turning around.

“She just left. We don’t know anything.” Scott says, and then looks over her shoulder to his best friend.

“Stiles, come on dude.”

Stiles tears his eyes away from his shoes, and gives Scott a scowl.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Because I’m a werewolf chauffeur now.” He grumbles, and moves towards the driver’s door. Scott sighs again, and his dark eyes zoom back to Callie.

“Get in.” Oh. Right. Because they’re supposed to tell her about things. Supernatural things. Things that she’s _desperate_ to know.

Callie nods, and peers into the car, seeing that there is a back seat… but it’s piled up with fast food wrappers, a lacrosse stick (there’s a bat in there too, why?), and Stiles’ stuff. Which means that she’s going to be squished between the two boys. Great. Because that’s not going to be immensely awkward. What if she accidentally brushes her arm against one of theirs and they freak out? What if-

“Are you getting in or not?” Stiles harrumphs, slamming his door and buckling his seatbelt. Ah yes, what a warm welcome. Another reason why she already sees this as a bad idea. If only she had her own car.

“Well, I kinda can’t get into the back.” Callie mutters, and Stiles looks over his shoulder.

“Oh yeah. Oops. Scott has to put his stuff back there too. Guess you’re sitting up front.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, and she instantly feels relieved that he didn’t freak out.

Whew.

“It’s okay.” Scott murmurs from behind her, and she turns her head to flash him a quick smile. _He’s nice_ , she thinks, sliding into the middle of the seat. It’s funny how opposite these two are, but they click so well. While Scott is warm and friendly, Stiles is sarcastic and guarded.

Huh. But then again, her and Erica aren’t exactly peas in a pod either.

Stiles reaches over to flick on the radio once they’re on the road, his arm brushing hers (and no, nothing happens, shut up) as he sticks his tongue out to the side. He manages to keep his eyes on the road, drum his fingers on the steering wheel, and spin through channels until landing on a Fall Out Boy song. And she’s totally not complaining, because she loves _Sugar We’re Going Down_ , her and Erica would blast it in her room in 7th grade so loud that the walls would vibrate. Or maybe it was because of their totally off-key singing.

Shut up.

Scott doesn’t say a word, just turns his head to the window and watches the scenery. Which is just… great. Because while he seems to not hate her, with Stiles it’s questionable.

She really doesn’t want them to hate her. She likes these two, and thinks that besides from the whole angst supernatural thing they have going on, they seem fun to be around. Callie decides that she’ll just keep her mouth shut and not say a word so that she doesn’t say anything else that’s stupid. After awhile of endless green trees and winding roads, Scott’s voice crackles through the silence.

“Stiles, take that left.” He says, and Stiles shoots him a weird look.

“But I thought we were going to your house. Or mine.” He flicks his blinker on and takes the left anyway, the road becoming bumpy and rough.

Scott shakes his head. “The woods are probably the best place to talk about this.” Callie peeks over at him and he gives her a small smile.

From the other side of her Stiles lets out in a fake sugary voice, “Aww, Scotty! I didn’t know you were feeling sentimental!”

Huh?

“What do you mean?” Callie asks, and turns her head to look at Stiles. He huffs and keeps his eyes on the road, his fingers tapping faster on the steering wheel. She waits a minute. Then another. Then another.

Really Stiles. Really?

Just as she’s about to ask again, or just slap his shoulder (because hell, maybe that will make him respond, but it’s probably not likely) Scott answers her. Thank _you_.

“The woods was where Stiles and I went to find a dead body a couple months back. It’s also where I was bitten.” His words are chosen carefully and spoken calmly, but there’s an undercurrent of worry to his voice.

Wait. Bitten? As in… oh my god. Seriously? Scott’s a werewolf too?

Holy shit. A werewolf. Puppy-dog Scott McCall whose co-captain of the lacrosse team is a werewolf. No wonder he didn’t sweat at all during practice! It also explains how he was leaving his other teammates in the dust. Huh.

She’s _sitting_ next to a werewolf! Like, their shoulders are touching!

 _Get ahold of yourself, jeesh_ , Callie thinks.

“You’re a werewolf?” She blurts, and yeah. So much for controlling herself. Scott nods, his eyes focused on where his fingers are picking at a loose thread at the hem of his shirt.

“Yep.”

Callie thinks back to the video, to the werewolf that ripped into Lydia’s side.

“Did you know the werewolf that bit Lydia? Are you friends with him?” Her voice comes out high and squeaky, and she feels her hands curl into fists.

“NO! No, I’m not friends with him. I’m not!” Scott rushes to explain, and Stiles suddenly stops the car.

“We’re here guys.” He simply says. Stiles shuts off the car and hops out. As if the conversation that just happened was _nothing_.

“Callie, look at me.” Scott pleads, and her teeth sink into her bottom lip, stinging the tender skin. She’s suddenly scared. Really, really scared.

 _How could you not think of this Callie_.

How could she the idea not pop into her head that hey, maybe Scott or Stiles could be a werewolf?

Of course, she never really thought that Stiles could be.

Tall, gangly, awkward, pale limbs. Fragile looking, the true strength showing in his quick-witted words and his amber eyes. She already ruled him out without her even noticing.

Callie forces herself to look at Scott, because she wanted to know about werewolves, she watched the video. You’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it. Scott’s face is a mixture of sadness and concern, his lips tugged down into a frown. Just like his best friend, he looks like any teen with a bad day. Innocent.

However, she feels the heat of him, almost too hot, and when she watched them practice earlier, it was impossible how he moved with such speed and agility. He knew his teammates steps before they even knew, tackling or dodging the players with ease. He didn’t even break a sweat after twenty suicides, while most of the boys collapsed to the ground or were panting with the effort.

There’s something in Scott’s eyes, a grim acceptance that she’s seen before. It’s the kind of thing you get when you realize that hey, some people are never going to accept who you are, no matter what you do or that you can’t control it.

She knows this look very well… because it’s in Erica’s face everyday. Dammit. She swore to herself that she would _never_ be like this.

She sucks in a shaky breath. “I’m… sorry. I just got kind of scared.” _Not just kind of, Callie_. She’s terrified, because she’s seen what a werewolf is capable of. But Scott doesn’t seem to be like that.

At least, she hopes he’s not.

Scott’s face softens, and he places a hand on her shoulder. “It’s expected. But we’ll explain everything. You’re in this now.”

Callie feels herself nod, and tries to smile for him.

She still doesn’t trust him.

But she wants to. He seems like the kind of guy that you want rooting for you, to have your back at all times. It would be nice to have someone like that, after doing it for Erica for all these years.

Not that she regrets her choice at all. But… it’s nice.

Scott squeezes her shoulder, and then turns to open the car door and jump down. Callie follows his lead, and he shuts the door behind her.

Who says that chivalry is dead?

“Come on! Or I’ll tell Allison that you’ve moved on from your guy’s Romeo and Juliet tragedy you two have got going on!” Stiles hollers up ahead, and Scott’s face immediately falls, and he moves away from Callie as if she’s a bomb.

Callie can’t help but snicker. “I don’t like you that way, Scott.” Even though he is very cute, damn. Of course he’s taken. Scott looks instantly relieved, and starts to catch up with Stiles. Before Callie takes five steps, he’s almost out of sight. Stupid werewolf speed.

She wouldn’t be surprised if they could _fly_ , too.

***

“Sooo this is the spot where Scott hid and let _me_ take the fall for getting caught in the woods.” Stiles dramatically throws out his hands to gesture towards a tree. Scott rolls his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“And then you left _me_ in the woods where I was bitten by a crazy lunatic.” He replies dryly, and Stiles actually looks a bit contrite.

“Ah, yeah… sorry about that.” He scratches the back of his head and shuffles his feet. Scott just moves to where his best friend is and shoves him.

“Yeah, sure you are.” He says, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. Stiles flails and squawks, almost tumbling to the ground. He shoots a glare at his best friend but it’s all for show.

“Ahem.” Callie fake coughs, looking at the two boys expectantly. Stiles merely sits back against the tree and lets his legs sprawl out in front of him. Scott’s eyes widen and he nods, walking towards her until he’s about five feet away.

“Right! Okay-” He starts, clapping his hands together, but Stiles cuts him off.

“This isn’t cheerleading practice Scott.”

Callie fights back a laugh as Scott turns his head to glare at Stiles. The boy raises his hands up in surrender but smirks. Heaving a long suffering sigh, Scott faces Callie again.

“A couple months back, Stiles and I were out here trying to find a dead body. And as Stiles said earlier, we got caught by the police.”

“More specifically, my Daddy-o, the Sheriff himself.” Stiles adds from his spot on the ground.

“But I hid while Stiles got yelled at, then left. I sort of got lost in here, and then I dropped my inhaler. So I was looking for that, and then when I found it, I saw that there was something in the woods with me.” His voice gets low and quiet, and Callie raises an eyebrow.

Scott lifts up his shirt and points to his left hip. “I was bitten that night. Lydia was bitten in the same spot as well.”

Oh. Ohh. What a weird spot. The skin looks to be perfectly fine, without a scar or anything. Does that mean he has super healing too?

Damn.

“So, do your eyes glow red, fangs, claws, weird face, all that jazz?” Callie asks, crossing her arms. Scott squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them again, they’re a goldish yellow. Huh.

“Red eyes mean an Alpha. But yellow…” Stiles trails off, and Scott finishes “Yellow means Beta.” The werewolf's eyes change back to their normal dark brown.

“So, wait… an Alpha is like the leader right? So is he yours? Or was?” She runs a hand through her hair and feels uneasy again, just like in the car. Scott’s face hardens, and he shakes his head vehemently.

“No. He tried to get me in his pack, but I didn’t want to. He’s dead.”

“How? Did you kill him?”

Stiles laughs. “Nope, Derek Hale did. Slashed his throat and roared I’M THE ALPHA!” He wiggles his fingers and rolls his eyes again. Scott frowns. Callie just becomes even more confused. Who the hell is Derek? And why does the last name sound familiar? She’s positive that no one at the school has that last name, but something about it tugs at her memory.

“Who’s Derek Hale?” She asks, and Scott’s jaw tightens.

“It was his uncle, Peter Hale… that bit Lydia. He was a Beta like me, but his eyes were blue. When he killed Peter, he became the Alpha.”

What the fuck is with all the colors? Is it like getting a different colored belt for karate? Do you go from yellow to blue to red? And she totally gets the killing thing, because of competition for becoming the next dominant male in a group. At least, that’s what she’s learned from _Animal Planet_. Gotta love Biology.

“We still don’t know why his eyes were blue in the first place.” Stiles says, tapping his fingers on his knee.

“We really don’t know too much.” Scott grumbles with irritation. Callie feels bad for him, because his life seems to be a complicated mess right now and with her getting into this probably isn’t helping. At all.

Oh well. He hasn’t tried to kill her yet, so she assumes that she’s safe.

“Who are the Hale’s though? Did they just randomly appear, or?”

“There was a fire six years ago. Werewolf hunters set Derek’s house on fire and killed his entire family.” Stiles says the words as if they’re painful to get out, and oh. She remembers hearing her parents discussing it at the kitchen table, the newspaper with the words _Tragic House Fire Kills 11 People_ on top.

Oh wow.

“That’s horrible.” Callie breathes, and the two boys nod in agreement.

“Derek, his sister Laura, and Peter were the only people that survived.” Stiles murmurs, and the look on his face seems to say _I know how that feels_. Callie thinks about Stiles’ Mom dying when he was nine, and her heart twists with sympathy for the boy. She remembers that Stiles’ Mom would come in to the AutoBody shop all the time just to talk to her Mom. They were really good friends, and when her Mom found out that she died in the hospital, she cried for a week straight.

Callie in that moment feels so utterly stupid. They’ve all gone through so much, and she’s faced nothing. She has two parents that love her and are totally in love. She has a best friend that’s like a sister, she passing all of her classes with A’s… and here Callie is, with two boys that have had their lives shit on while she complains about the lack of excitement in her life.

“Where is Laura?” She asks when she feels like her voice won’t stutter.

“She’s dead too. Peter killed her.” Scott supplies darkly, and if Callie isn’t just creeped out by Peter Hale, she hates him. A dark, bitter part of her is glad that he’s dead, and she doesn’t know what to do with that. Now she’s starting to scare herself.

_Focus Callie, focus._

“Have you guys talked to Derek at all? Are you guys friends?” She finds herself saying, and Stiles scoffs.

“Oh yeah. The best of friends. That guy is such a sweetheart, you’d never know.” Stiles says with sarcasm.

Scott sighs. “He’s… kind of an asshole. And we haven’t heard from him since the other night.”

Gotcha.

“Well… I’ll help in any way I can, if you want.” Callie means it too. She does want to help these guys, because in all honesty? It definitely sounds like they need it.

Scott’s face brightens up at that, and Stiles studies her face for a moment.

“You really want to help us? After finding out that the town is filled with werewolves? That the guy standing in front of you could rip your throat out right now?” Stiles asks harshly, looking at her as if she’s insane. Callie narrows her eyes at him. She made her choice when she watched the video. There’s no backing out now, no halfsies.

“Fine.” She says, and pulls her eyes away to land on Scott.

“Show me.” Scott seems bewildered for a few seconds, before comprehending.

“Are you sure?” He asks hesitantly, and she nods. She’s as sure as she’s going to be. Besides, she thinks (hopes) that it’ll make her more comfortable with all of this and make it more real if it’s right in front of her.

“Okay.” He says quietly, and then… changes. Just like Peter Hale in the video, his face shifts, with long sideburns growing down his jaw. His nose becomes wider, his ears pointy, his forehead enlarges, becoming ridged and bumpy. His eyes are golden yellow again, and fangs pierce his bottom lip. Finally, he flexes his hands, claws coming out of his fingertips.

Woah. Seriously… _woah_.

“Well, that’s not something you see everyday,” she says around a breathless laugh.

Not even realizing it, she’s moved closer. He’s still Scott, but… wolfy. She kind of wants to touch his face but she feels kind of bad and he might freak out because of the whole girlfriend thing (she doesn’t like him that way, she’s just curious).

“Dude, she didn’t even _scream_. Impressive.” Stiles remarks, and Callie shoots him a smug smile.

Scott looks totally weirded out, and oh my god, that’s hilarious. It’s like werewolves weren’t made for anything but serious faces, because a puzzled one just throws the features off balance.

She tries to stifle the laughter but she just can’t.

“I don’t get it, why are you laughing-hahahahaha!” Stiles laughs, taking in the expression on his best friend’s face. Scott begins to pout, which makes it even worse, and soon enough Callie’s _crying_.

“You guys suck!” Scott moans.

“Kinky!” Stiles fires back through a snort of giggles, and that’s it, it’s all over, Callie’s on the ground, shaking with laughter.

***

“Hey Callie,” a voice says, deep and confident from the other side of her desk in the office. Huh. She does not recognize that at all. But he did get her name right, so he gets points.

Callie tears her eyes away from the computer screen (she’d been writing an email to send to all of the teachers about an assembly coming up) and is instantly disappointed. She takes it back. No points for this guy. Ugh.

It’s Jackson Whittemore, aka, Aberdouche (gettit, Abercrombie+Douche? She knows, she’s hilarious). Aka, Lydia Martin’s former boyfriend, and the same guy that almost threw a temper tantrum yesterday when he couldn’t catch up to Scott. She’s revolted already.

Deciding to keep her mouth shut, she merely raises an eyebrow. Honestly, what could he want from her? He flashes her what probably was meant to be an innocent smile, but it just comes off as a creepy smirk. Unfortunately, it does nothing to ruin his gorgeously sculpted face. _Damn_. Of course his white polo shirt hugs his biceps perfectly and there isn’t a strand of hair that isn’t in place.

His fucking eyes _sparkle_. How is that even a thing?

“Enjoying the view?” He asks, settling his hands on her desk and leaning towards her. Oh fuck you, buddy. Even if she was oogling.

Shut up.

“Yeah, don’t you think the rainbows on that poster for the _Peaceful Harmony_ club is just delightful?” She fake gushes, her lips stretching in a smile that’s almost painful. He narrows his eyes at her, not even turning around to see if she’s lying or not. And she totally isn’t, which in itself is kind of sad. Seriously, _Peaceful Harmony_? Do they just sit in a circle, hold hands, and smoke weed?

She’s too busy trying to control her laugh at the mental image that she doesn’t notice that apparently Aberdouche wants to be as close to her as possible. Like, sit on her desk, leg pressing against her hand where she left it on the mouse kind of close.

“I’m sorry, have you ever hear of personal space?” She squeaks (no she doesn’t, stop that), and quickly makes some distance between them. The creepy smile is still on his face, and hell, she doesn’t like that sparkle in his eyes. She really doesn’t, because it looks like trouble.

“Most people like it when I’m close. Can’t get enough of me, actually.” He drawls, and for a split second, his eyes change. They’re no longer blue… but yellow? Like Scott’s. Exactly like Scott’s, actually.

What the fuck.

Seriously? He’s one too?

As soon as Aberdouche’s eyes changed, they’re already back to their original color and are studying her as if she’s an interesting toy to play with.

Without her consent, mind you, he suddenly reaches out and takes one of her hands, trapping it between his own. She lets out an indignant squawk and tries to pull it back, because hello, thats mine, not yours-

But when she does his grip turns painful, and she decides that she doesn’t want to lose her hand (she likes it, you know, it’s been around for sixteen years) and stops fighting him.

The creepy smile now turns sinister. “I heard that you’ve been hanging around Scott McCall and that loser Stilinski lately.” Aberdouche’s fingers press into the inside of her wrist, and shit. He’s feeling her pulse. And how it must be racing right now. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

She’s never been so terrified _ever_ , and she watched her classmate get mauled by a werewolf and her friend transform into one.

“What do you want from me?” She tries to keep her voice calm and even. Don’t freak out, don’t freak out. Don’t let him see that you’re scared for your life.

“You _know_ what,” Aberdouche drawls, and pulls her wrist up to his face, examining the pale, fragile skin like a fucking weirdo. She’s not going to have a panic attack and start crying. She’s totally not, okay? It’ll just be in her head.

Why would he care about her being friends with Scott and Stiles though? She gets that he’s probably jealous of Scott, but what else?

Aberdouche, his tux ruffled, phone pressed to his ear as the ambulance takes Lydia Martin to the hospital.

_“You can do that though, right? Start organizing search parties and making signs?” Scott asks for the third time, as if her telling him yes didn’t cut it before. She shoots him an annoyed glare, and he shuts up, looking sheepish._

_“Dude, she said it wasn’t a problem.” Stiles adds, and glances at the girl beside him in the Jeep, giving her a quick smile._

Oh. Then she realizes.

This all comes back to Lydia Martin. Of course.

“You’re here because of Lydia Martin.” She says, and Aberdouche looks up from her wrist to her face, his blue eyes making her feel violated with their intensity.

“Of course. Because at the end of the day, it always comes back to her, doesn’t it?” He asks as though he already knows the answer, twisting the words until they’re bitter. He finally lets go of her wrist, thank god, and she immediately wraps her other hand around it and brings it to her chest. It won’t protect it or anything, but she feels safer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She snaps. Aberdouche has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“It’s such a drag, you know? Scott asked me to look for her, but there’s just no point.” He says, more to himself than Callie. He smooths out the collar of his shirt, and just _wow_.

He’s unbelievable. Does he not care about his ex-girlfriend at all? They’ve been dating since 7th grade. That’s almost four years now.

There’s gotta be something wrong with this guy. _No shit, stupid. He practically molested your wrist_ , Callie thinks with disgust.

She doesn’t like Lydia Martin, but she kind of pities her because she had to deal with this jerk all the time.

He keeps talking, as if this is totally normal and like they’re _friends_.

“You know, you don’t seem very surprised that I haven’t even bothered looking for my ex. In fact, you look like you know something.” She’s caught up in another intense stare, but this time it’s like he’s trying to pry her open.

She does know things. So he’s right about that. Callie knows, that of last night, Lydia Martin has been missing for two days. She knows that Lydia is either a werewolf or dead, and that when Scott said that, Stiles looked heartbroken.

She knows that there’s werewolves.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She manages to finally avoid his eyes and instead, look for her phone. She hates it, but she wouldn’t mind being a damsel in distress at the moment. Because if she was, there was a high possibility that someone would swoop in and save her.

“Did Scott tell you about what happened to Lydia?” Aberdouche pries, standing up. She ignores him, reaching for her bag. This is going to get really ugly, really soon.

She sort of wants backup for when that happens.

“Oh come on! I worked my ass off to find out, and he just tells you?” He yells, and oh, that’s it. Callie stands up, her mouth pressed into a thin line and glaring at him with the angriest look she can muster.

“You need to leave. Now.” She orders, crossing her arms over her chest. Jackson looks shocked for a moment, but rage takes over.

“Did he also tell you that he’s a werewolf? And that him and Allison broke up because her family hunts werewolves and that her father would rather see him dead than dating his daughter?” He says, his eyes roaming her face for a reaction.

Wait. What? Who’s Allison?

Oh. _Ohhh_. Scott’s girlfriend, the one Stiles teased him about yesterday, and then vaulted away from Callie as if she were the plague.

She’s a werewolf hunter? What? Are they the family that killed Derek Hale’s?

Why the hell did Scott think it would be a good idea to date a werewolf hunter’s daughter?

Jesus Christ. It’s like a supernatural soap opera. Aberdouche looks smug at the surprised expression on her face, and damn. He deserves a good punch to his pretty face. Or five.

Just then, the door to the office bangs open, and she looks over Aberdouche’s shoulder to see an anxious Scott and an out of breath Stiles behind him.

Huh. She didn’t even get the chance to text them, and they still came. She wonders if it’s creepy or sweet that they knew to come to her rescue, and decides to file that away for later.

“Leave her alone, Jackson.” Scott growls, causing shivers to roll down Callie’s spine. Stiles gives Aberdouche his best bitch face, and strides over to Callie, shoving the co-captain when he passes him. To her surprise, he wraps an arm around her shoulder. She decides not to shake it off, because he’s actually being _nice_ to her. In fact, she feels better already, knowing that these two came to her rescue.

Points to her for being damsel in distress.

The snooty asshat turns on his heel to glare at Scott.

“Actually, I was just leaving, idiot.” He grabs his backpack from the other side of the desk (since when was that even there?), and strides over to the door, shoving Scott as he goes. The other boy barely moves, and for a moment he looks like he’s going to pounce.

Jackson chances one last look at Callie. She glares.

“I think you should know that there’s a lot more to this story and tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb have let on. More than they even know.” And with that, he’s out the door.

Whew. Where’s the streamers, or the choir singing ‘hallelujah’? She definitely feels like celebrating for obvious reasons.

“You okay?” Stiles asks, squeezing her shoulder. She gives him a small smile.

“Okay as you would be if someone decided that your wrist was a toy.”

“Wait what?” Stiles’ eyes narrow in confusion, and Scott walks over to them. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” the werewolf asks, guilt and concern written all over his face.

She _aww’s_ internally, because that shit is cute. They are actually _worried_ about her. It puts a warm, tingly feeling in her heart that she totally denies is there (let’s just leave it at she’s in the denial about the denial).

“He was creepy and decided that it was okay for him to grab my wrist. But other than that, I’m super,” she admits sarcastically.

“What?” Scott asks, and looks at where Callie is cradling said limb to her chest defensively. She shrugs, and presses her thumb over the spot he touched. For some reason, it’s almost like the area is numb. Weird.

“Yeah, it was like he was checking my pulse.” She shudders just thinking about it. Ugh.

“He fondled your pulse point?! That fucking weirdo.” Stiles grumbles, and lets go of her after patting her back.

Scott’s eyes flash gold again, and she’s reminded of Aberdouche’s (that’s never going to get old) eyes.

“Oh by the way, I don’t know if I imagined this or not… but Ab- _Jackson_ ’s eyes looked like yours for a sec,” Callie informs, and Scott’s eyes widen in shock.

“JACKSON IS A WEREWOLF?” Scott shouts, before Stiles hisses “Dude!” and hits him on the back of the head. Scott glares at him, but lowers his voice.

“It had to be Derek. Who else could’ve bit him? He is the Alpha now,” the werewolf mutters darkly. Stiles just lets out a groan of annoyance.

“Greaaaaat. Another freakin’ werewolf running around.”

“Well, you know what they say. One’s company, two’s a crowd, and three’s a party.” Callie says weakly, and runs a hand through her hair. Beside her, Stiles snorts, shaking his head.

“I remember when the worst thing to happen was my Dad eating a bag of chips.”

“Sounds boring,” Callie nudges his shoulder playfully, and Stiles gives her a quick smile.

“It was,” The two boy’s answer in unison, although Scott’s response is more exasperated, as if he’d been told the same story many times.

“Jinx!”

“Haha! I won, you owe me skittles.”

“Skittles are gross.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Callie exclaims, trying not to laugh. Stiles just adds, “What she said!” And Scott looks like he wants to die.

Long story short, they all bicker about the best kind of candy (Callie is all for Reese’s, Scott is for Sour Patch, and Stiles backs up Skittles) when the bell rings. Then it’s scrambling out the door to get to class on time after Callie makes the boys help her turn off the computer while she grabs her bag.

At least trying to get to class on time hasn’t changed.


	5. A Collection of Moments in Hold On: The End of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I'm still sort of writing in this verse, but I tend to go into the summer after Allison left with her Dad, and then she comes back. I figured as long as I'm actually writing this, I should maybe put some of it on here. Also, a sidenote: Callie's name is now Rose. It was hard finding a name for the character, and I just ended up changing it. So, if you're confused, Callie is now Rose, she's with Isaac (hopefully I will get to writing where I've left off, but at the moment, not quite happening). I also know that it's weird for me to introduce you a new character and you don't know her too well, and she's the narrator for the most part. Hahaaaa. Sorry.  
> (I don't own anything, obviously)  
> Anyway, if anyone reads what I'm posting, and likes it, thank you!

Allison came back on a Tuesday.

 

It was during a nighttime patrol around the perimeter, with Isaac and Scott taking the east side and Boyd, Erica, and Jackson covering the west. Derek and Stiles were doing surveillance on what could be the Alpha Pack’s hideout.

 

This left Lydia and Rose at the Martin household. Lydia was just starting on yet another rant that they never got in on any of the action. Rose was okay about it for once, because 1. neither of them are werewolves, scanning the area for possible threats would be wasted on them and 2. Derek and Stiles have this weird sexual tension thing going on and Rose does not want to sit awkwardly in the backseat while they argue and then stare at each other for long periods of time. No thank you.

 

“We should have, like, a team human. I’m _something_ , and you can see the future, Callie! If we could only drag in Danny and his incredible hacking skills-”

 

“Lyds, Jackson had a temper tantrum and broke Derek’s coffee table when you mentioned that Danny should know. It won’t happen.” Rose says, running a hand through her hair. It’s gotten a lot longer over the past two months, now reaching the middle of her back. Her hair hasn’t been long since she was a little girl, and she misses it.

 

Lydia huffs and waves her hand dismissively. “He’ll find out eventually. It’s only a matter of time. I found out, didn’t I?”

 

Rose merely nods her head, knowing that Lydia isn’t looking for anything else. She receives a satisfied smile in response, although it’s strained. With knowing everything that was going on behind the scenes, Lydia was also being manipulated physically, mentally, and emotionally by Peter Hale.

 

Looking at her now, though, two and half months later, you wouldn’t know it. The redhead is confident, strong, and intimidating as ever. Rose is definitely scared of her, and is really happy that Lydia likes her. She wouldn’t want to know what would happen to her if Lydia didn’t.

 

Lydia comes over and sits beside Rose on her bed. She reaches out and begins playing with the other girl’s hair. “Your hair looks great, now that it’s grown out. You aren’t allowed to cut it.” Lydia says matter-of-factly. Rose snorts, and salutes her.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Lydia rolls her eyes and fights back another smile.

 

Then, their phones go off.

 

It’s a text from Scott, sent from their group chat, and all it says is:

 

_Scotty McPuppy Pants: Allison is back._

 

The two girls look at each other.

 

“Wow.” Rose breathes, and Lydia’s grin from just seconds ago is pulled into a tight frown.

 

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. The only thing we have to worry about is Scott moping again.” Lydia says, and abruptly gets up and moves to the door.

 

Rose's jaw drops. While Allison and Rose had barely known each other, Lydia and the huntress were practically attached at the hip.

 

Well, before shit hit the fan.

 

“Lyds-” Rose starts, and Lydia turns around on her heel to shoot her a look. A look that says _we are not talking about this and if you try it’s not going to end well for you._

 

Rose shut her mouth, and Lydia spun back to the door.

 

“Do you like cookie dough?”

 

“Um, yes?"

 

“Good.”

 

And with that, she stormed out of the room.

 

**

A rainy Saturday evening finds Rose on the kitchen floor with her dog’s head in her lap. Ollie contentedly burrows his nose into her stomach, flicking out his tongue to lick her hands every so often. She coos to him quietly, rubbing his soft ears and trying to think of what to make for dinner. It’s just gonna be her and the dog tonight; her parents are out of town for their anniversary, and Erica’s wrapped up in Boyd for, well… Rose doesn’t want to know the details.

 

The two girls did have plans for tonight, but Boyd had texted Erica about going to their ‘spot’ and the way her best friend’s eyes had lit up… Rose would’ve felt like shit if she had put up a fight. It was nice to see Erica like this; happy, giddy… hopeful. She deserved it.

 

Rose lets her head fall back against the cabinet behind her and runs a hand over her dog’s glossy reddish gold head. She could’ve asked Lydia if she wanted to come over, or even tweedledee and tweedledum… _Isaac,_ even.

 

The name alone caused her cheeks to feel very, very hot. Isaac.

 

Oh, Isaac.

 

It would be embarrassing to admit how many times she’d thought about how his eyes were a tie between a sky on a cloudless day and a raging sea, or the way his blonde curls got ruffled in the wind, or his abs…

 

She laughs at herself, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

 

Sometimes she just wants to go up to him and say, _“I get it, you’re gorgeous. Now kiss me, please.”_

 

If only she had the guts. And the confidence. And the courage. That’s all the same thing, right?

 

Ollie suddenly lifts his head off of her lap, dark brown eyes alert. She raises an eyebrow at him just as he lets out a _WOOF!_ and scrambles up. A second later her doorbell rings, and she shakes her head as she pulls herself up.

 

_Of course._

 

She doesn’t expect the person that appears at the other side of the door.

 

“Scott,” She says blankly, his name coming out like a question. He’s absolutely _drenched,_ black curls plastered to his head, olive green shirt sticking to him like a second skin. His hands are tightly clenched at his sides, and when his eyes meet hers, she’s instantly worried at the yellow-gold color she finds there.

 

Slowly, Rose reaches for one of his fists, his skin hot to the touch despite the icy rain. “Come on,” she mumbles softly, tugging at him.

 

For a long, tense moment, Scott doesn’t move.

 

Rose briefly wonders how she’ll explain to her parents that one of her friends has decided to become a permanent statue in front of the door when Scott’s shoulders slump in apparent defeat. He follows her inside easily, with Ollie circling excitedly at their heels. Rose lets go of Scott to shut the door, and when she turns around, Scott’s kneeling down with his head buried in her dog’s fur. Ollie, surprisingly, stays very still except for his wagging tail thumping against the hardwood floor.

 

Rose sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

_Something’s happened. Something bad._

 

With a small sigh, Rose sidesteps the two to make her way down the hallway. She makes a pitstop at the linen closet to grab a towel before heading into her bedroom. Rose returns a few minutes later with a faded blue towel, a shirt of Stiles’ that he left the other day, and too-big sweatpants Rose always has to roll up on her hips at least three times.

 

Scott is standing and petting the dog’s head by the time she reaches him. Ollie leans against his leg with his eyes closed. She can’t help but smile at the sight; if this had been any other day, she would’ve taken a picture.

 

“Here.” she places the items in Scott’s free hand and jabs a thumb towards the bathroom. “You can change in there.”

 

Scott stares at her for a moment, mouth slightly open in shock. For a second he looks like the little boy that offered her his crayons in first grade after she lost hers, and it takes everything in her not to hug him.

 

Instead, Rose’s smile turns tiny and soft. “I haven’t eaten dinner yet, have you?”

 

Scott’s shock has worn off some, for he ducks his head low and mutters “No.”

 

She nods once, even though he can’t see it. “I hope you like frozen pizza, then,” Rose says, before spinning on her heel.

 

“I ate the weird shit in the back of Derek’s fridge a few weeks ago, remember? I’ll eat anything,” he calls after her, his joking tone cracking towards the end. Her heart clenches with worry, her answering laugh coming out flat.

 

Forcing her rising feelings away for now, Rose preheats the oven and gets the pizza ready. She pops dinner in just as Scott reappears, rubbing the towel over his drying curls. The shirt is tighter on him than it is on Stiles, and she giggles at the sight of the borrowed grey sweats rolled at least once on his hips.

 

He narrows his puppy brown eyes at her amusement, tugging the towel off of his head. “What?” he demands, brows furrowed in confusion. Rose claps a hand over her mouth to stifle more giggles. His hair is drying into an adorable nest of frizzy curls that offset the seriousness of his face in such a way that she really, really wishes she could take a picture.

 

“Oh, nothing, Scotty. Nothing at all,” she says, fighting off a smile when Scott’s full mouth turns into a pout. “You’re mean,” he grumbles, folding the towel into a neat bundle that he sets on one of the stools. Rose shrugs, heaving herself onto the counter.

 

“Just remember- you decided to tell me you’re a werewolf.”

 

“That’s because you were really sweet back then. I’m not sure what happened.”

 

“Jackson’s been rubbing off on me.”

 

Scott chuckles, leaning back against the kitchen island and bracing his elbows on the counter. “It was only a matter of time.”

 

Rose smirks, kicking her legs back against the cabinet. “Now I know we’re pack, but you usually don’t end up at my front door looking like a drenched puppy. What’s up?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light.

 

Scott’s face hardens, his crooked jaw clenching. Gone is the playful boy who reminded her of the sun; here is the angry young man who has the weight of Beacon Hills resting on his shoulders. It takes a moment for Scott to say anything, and what comes out of his mouth causes a shiver to roll down Rose’s spine.

 

“I saw Allison today.”

 

Her eyes widen, her heart starting to race even though Allison isn’t there. Unfortunately, the last time she saw Allison is enough to give her nightmares.

 

Rose lets go of a breath that she hadn’t even realized she was holding in. “Oh?” She bites her lip again and begins to tug at the rings on her hands. Scott watches the action, eyes tracking the nervous movements of her small, quick fingers. If he looks close enough, he can see her hands shake, and he wonders, not for the first time, if he should’ve came here.

 

“Scott?” Rose’s quiet voice pulls his focus away from her hands and up to her sweet, open face. While he does see fear in those unnaturally purple eyes, he also sees concern and worry mixed in there, too. It’s in that moment he knows why he came here: she’s the only one that wouldn’t shower him with pity. He can’t talk to Stiles about this, not after what Allison let happen to him, and not when him and Stiles were finally getting back to normal. Rose understood things in a way that Scott had never known anyone else to. She listened, without judgement, and seemed to always know what to say.

 

Scott clears his throat, shifting on his foot. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

 

Rose purses her full mouth in response, twisting an opal ring on her pointer finger. “Look, are you okay? You seem really off, and I know that since everything… happened, we haven’t seen a lot of each other lately. But you can always talk to me, you know that right?”

 

It takes Scott awhile to respond, his mind working over her words. He’s wondering how much he should say and just how far Rose’s kindness would extend for what happened earlier today. Scott shuts his eyes and sucks in a deep breath before letting it go just as quick. When he opens his eyes, Rose is still there, head leaning back against a cabinet. Waiting.

 

_Oh, what the hell._

 

He tells her about how he was about to go over to Stiles’ house to play video games, had just opened the door and _BAM!-_ there Allison was. As beautiful and dreamlike as ever. His heart stopped for a second, his eyes hungrily taking her in for the first time in two months.

 

Her once pearly skin was tanned, her long dark hair now chopped just to her shoulders. It wasn’t those changes that surprised him, however. It was something about her face; she looked stronger, her curvy mouth in a firm line. Her brown eyes, ones that he saw every time he closed his own, were different. It was as if a light had been dimmed within them. They stared back at him like they didn’t quite know who he was, anymore.

 

At that part, Rose slumped in her perch, fingers twisting together in her lap. Scott fixes his eyes once more on her hands, finding it easier to go on, before he opens his mouth.

 

“She- she wanted to talk about a new treaty. I don’t think she knows about Derek being our alpha, because the way she acted it was as like she thought that Derek had left town,” Scott says, and Rose snorts, unable to help herself.

 

“I’m sorry, but I think that assumption is a bit far fetched. How could he leave us?”

 

Scott looks up from Rose’s tangled fingers to her face, almost shocked at the resilient faith that he finds there.

 

A part of Scott, one that’s grown smaller and smaller these past few months, wants to scream at her that the Derek she _knows_ wasn’t the one that Scott met last year.

 

That Derek was mean and spiteful and angry, pushing at Scott to become something that he never dreamed of being. Back when all Scott wanted was a spot on the lacrosse team and for the pretty girl with the cute dimples to kiss him.

 

Of course, Derek is still all of those things, but now Derek is their alpha and he listens and he’s trying and he genuinely _cares_ … it’s a Derek that Allison doesn’t know.

 

Scott swallows roughly. “Rosie, the Derek you know and the one that Allison hates are two very different people. That Derek… that Derek would’ve gotten the hell out of dodge and never turned back.” He runs a hand through damp, frizzy hair and notices the way Rose’s face crumples. Her delicate features are caught between a mix of guilt, frustration, and sadness.

 

It takes her a moment to respond, and when she does, she pulls one of her legs up to balance her chin on her knee. “I guess I… never thought of it like that,” she mumbles, lacing her fingers over her shin. Scott passes her a soft smile that feels like a hug.

 

“I know, I know. And that’s okay. You weren’t there before. You also aren’t _her._ ” Scott’s voice cracks at the end, his throat clogging up. As much as it hurts, he’d never take anything back with Allison. He still loves her, is in love with her, and he thinks that he always will be.

 

It’s not healthy. He knows that.

 

But he can’t decide if he’d hate himself more if he ever stopped.

 

Scott takes a deep breath and fiddles with the hem of his borrowed shirt. “It sucks, because I miss her all the time and I didn’t realize until today that when she came back, I assumed that we’d get back together. But I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” his words are barely over a whisper but they feel like he’s screamed them at the top of a building, painful and too loud and it just _hurts._

 

He doesn’t even notice that Rose has gotten down from the counter and is standing in front of him until he feels her hand on his cheek. Scott slowly raises his head, brown locking with purple, and suddenly it’s very hard to breathe. Her face is cracked open in its sympathy, her fingers trailing up to his messy curls. She carefully pushes them back from his forehead, and in that moment he decides that he’ll get a haircut tomorrow.

 

“Did you say anything to her about it?” Rose asks, now brushing a hand through his hair, fingers twining absentmindedly into his thick curls. Something in Scott loosens, and he wants to succumb to her comforting touch, right then and there, but he needs to get all of this out. Before he explodes.

 

And that’s not as cool as it sounds.

 

He’d probably just heal back together, anyway.

 

“I asked her if she wanted to go get coffee, or even a walk… and she just stared right through me.”

 

_“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Scott.”_

 

_“Why?”_

 

_“We can’t… we can’t do this. It’s not right.”_

 

_“I thought that we agreed a long time ago that we were right. That this was fate.”_

 

_“There’s no such thing as fate.” This time, she doesn’t smile. In fact, she just looks resigned._

 

_“There’s-there’s no such thing as werewolves.”_

 

_“Maybe there shouldn’t be.”_

 

The first tear slips down his cheek, and Rose wipes it with her free hand, catches two more as he struggles to put into words the conversation that’s been burning up his mind for the past four hours. Rose listens to it all, forces back the anger and the misery that wouldn’t do any good for her friend right now.

 

“C’mere,” Rose says, and doesn’t even wait for him to respond, already stepping further into his space and pulling him into her arms. For a second, he stands there, frozen, before he’s gripping her so tight that it’s painful. That’s when the first sob breaks out of him, and Rose _shhs_ him, running a hand through his hair and smoothing another one up and down his back.

 

Rose wants to tell him that she’s sorry, that it’s okay, that he’ll get through this, that Allison doesn’t deserve him, but it all feels wrong on her tongue. They wouldn’t be enough, they would just be empty words and not something for Scott to hold on to.

 

Instead she lets Scott’s hot tears seep into the collar of her ratty tee shirt and hold her as tight as he wants, because sometimes it’s not what you say, it’s what you do.

 

When the timer for the pizza goes off, she doesn’t let go, and Scott has no intention of releasing her any time soon.

 

This results in slightly burnt but still good pizza. Scott manages to ‘sneak’ some pepperoni to Ollie but Rose catches it, being a culprit of this herself for years. Rose doesn’t say anything, just watches a tiny smile rest at Scott’s mouth as her dog munches on the scraps with delight.

 

Later, she asks Scott if he wants to stay, and after a moment he nods, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. It’s an unspoken _I don’t want to be alone_ , and hell, Rose doesn’t mind at all.

 

The rainstorm outside is enough to make Rose not want to be alone in her house, either. Ollie’s great, but at the first sign of thunder he’s under her parent’s bed in seconds. Not so much of a protector.

 

The two settle on the couch and Rose flicks through the channels until landing on a cartoon that Stiles and Erica never shut up about, much to Jackson’s annoyance.

 

In the midst of an episode about a boy with a blue arrow on his forehead, Scott falls asleep, head tilted back against the cushions. Quietly as possible, Rose gets up and pads over to her room to grab a blanket and a pillow. When she comes back, Scott’s on his side, spread out across the couch. She snorts, laying the blanket over him and pushing lightly at his head until she’s able to shove the pillow there, too.

 

She flicks off the TV, and is about to leave when a warm hand wraps loosely around her wrist.

 

“Rosie?” Scott asks, voice gritty with sleep.

 

Rose blinks, turning to see half of his face smushed into the pillow. His eyes aren’t open, but his grip is sure and firm.

 

“Hmm?” She tugs at his grip until his hand slips into her smaller one.

 

“Could you stay? Please?” He mumbles, squeezing her hand. Rose bites her lip, looking down at their hands.

 

Here’s the thing: being part of a werewolf pack, you start to see that wolves are very tactile. They don’t seek comfort in words, they find it in touch. And Scott just went through hell today, and while they talked about it, Rose knows that Scott needs more, needs something that feels very weirdly intimate but _shouldn’t_ , because Derek mentioned once that this is what pack does.

 

_“It’s not about sex. Erica, don’t start.” Derek holds up a hand when Erica opens her dark red mouth, and she immediately shuts it with a dramatic pout._

 

_“It’s about taking care of each other. As long as you don’t make it a big deal-” Derek shoots an accusing glare at a huffy Jackson, who backs down from his rising temper tantrum with an eyeroll._

 

_“It won’t be.”_

 

“Yeah. I’ll stay,” she whispers, and feels only slightly awkward as she curls up next to him, her back to his front. However, Scott doesn’t seem to care at all, for he tugs her close and wraps an arm around her waist. She tenses, unsure of what to do, and then Derek’s voice is in her head again.

 

_“It won’t be.”_

 

Letting go of a heavy sigh, Rose makes herself more comfortable, places a hand over the one on her stomach and laces their fingers together. Scott makes a rumbling noise that Rose thinks is a good thing, before she shuts her eyes.

**

 

It’s later, so much later that Scott wonders why he’s even awake at all. He groans, shifting on his side, cracking open one tired eye. The moonlight casts an eerie glow through the window, shining it’s spotlight on Rose. She’s standing, one of her small hands tangled in her long hair while the other is pressing a phone to her ear.

 

“Hey… no, no, it’s fine. What happened?” She mumbles in a voice that Scott’s never heard from her before. It’s soft and soothing and intimate in a way that makes Scott wish that he’d never woken up at all. However, since he already is, his ears prick up at the response from the other line.

 

 _“I- I was back in the warehouse, but I hadn’t made it in time. Derek was dead, and you… there was an arrow lodged in your chest, right at your heart-”_ Scott shudders, his hands clenching into fists under the blanket that Rose had thrown over him. Above him, Rose makes _shhing_ noises and settles herself down on the ground. The pain in her sweet face makes Scott want to get up and throw his arms around her, wishing that he could take a pain away that wasn’t just physical.

 

Instead he watches her clutch the phone tighter in her grip, her purple eyes sad but resigned. As if this has happened before.

 

“It’s okay, Isaac. Derek’s down the hall, I’m fine. Everything is fine. I couldn’t be talking to you if I had an arrow in my chest, right?” Scott wonders if she was trying for a joke but the determined set of her features has him thinking otherwise.

 

 _“Right, I know you’re right. Hell, I can hear Derek’s snoring from here. It’s shaking the whole damn loft,”_ Isaac’s voice is teetering on a calm that never really settles, but Rose’s relieved giggle is enough for Scott to realize that maybe it’ll all be okay.

 

God, he had no idea. He saw Isaac every day, worked with him at Deaton's, shared fries with him at the diner yesterday, held out a hand to him during practice whenever he took a hard hit-

 

Scott knew that Isaac had suffered, that his Dad was an asshole who would lock him in a freezer as punishment, but he didn’t _know._

 

“Get some sleep, okay? I know you don’t want to, but try,” she says quietly, in that same voice from before.

 

Scott hears a heavy sigh from the other line. _“I’ll try. For you.”_

 

Scott doesn’t have to have superhuman eyesight to see a flush erupt on Rose’s cheeks. Her next words come out a bit shaky. “Goodnight, Isaac.”

 

" _You're kind of like an angel, you know that?”_

 

Rose rolls her eyes, pulling her legs to her chest. “I didn’t know you were in the mood to make jokes.”

 

Isaac snorts. _“Stop, I’m serious. It’s like… my whole life, I’ve been wishing for someone to swoop in and save me. And no one ever did. So I kind of gave up on nice things, because I thought that I didn’t deserve them. But you… you’re the nice thing that I wished and wished for but never expected to come. So to me, you’re my angel.”_

 

Scott’s eyes widen, mouth falling open a bit in shock. Jesus, how much did he miss all the time?

 

Rose looks to be just as surprised as he is, worrying her full bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks still flushed. “Isaac… I.... in a weird, messed up way, every night I hope you call. I know I shouldn’t want that, because I hate to hear how hurt and sad your voice sounds, and it makes me wish that I was there with you, right now… but the fact that I’m the person you call, it means a lot to me.” The words rush out of her, tumbling so fast from her lips that Scott barely catches them all.

 

_God, why the fuck is he awake right now?_

 

Through the phone, Isaac inhales a shaky breath. _“I wish that you were here, too.”_

 

The way Rose smiles makes something in Scott’s heart burst. It’s so happy and relieved… and hopeful. It makes her dazzling in the moonlight, and for the first time, Scott wonders what it would’ve been like, if he had fallen for her instead of Allison. If maybe his heart wouldn’t feel like it does now, a tattered, bleeding mess that keeps getting worse no matter how many band-aids he slaps on it.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.”

 

“ _See you, angel,”_ Isaac murmurs softly, and Rose hangs up, pressing her phone to her chest with a heaving sigh.

 

After a moment, Rose casts a glance toward Scott, who quickly shuts his eyes and tries to look as asleep as possible. His friend must believe it, for she gets up and places her phone on the coffee table beside the couch.

 

Rose carefully pulls back the blanket she placed over Scott and snuggles into the spot she left. After a moment, Scott throws an arm over her waist and tugs her close. She lets him, eyes drooping shut.

  
This time, there are no phone calls with eavesdropping werewolves.


	6. Back To School and Facing The Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm just going to keep putting these in... maybe i'll add some stuff in between to make it more cohesive. if you have any questions, you can message me on here or my tumblr username is: shaniacantdance. i have entire headcanons about what happened with allison and why she left, how the pack formed over the summer, stuff like that. seriously, i'm just lazy and haven't written it. if you request it, i'll write it and put it in here.

 

Rose sees Allison for the first time on accident. 

 

Jackson was supposed to walk with her to AP History, but those plans went out the door as soon as he spotted Danny _.Then _ it was all  _ DannyDannyDannyLacrosseLacrosseLacrosse _ and he scampered after the dimpled ray of sunshine like a lost puppy. Also she forgot her textbook, so she had to turn around and get that, and shit, she’s going to be late,  _ ugh, everyone’s going to stare _ -

 

“Oof!” 

 

_ Oops. _ Rose quickly grips the other person’s elbows and manages not to topple them both over. It’s a girl, she can tell by the slim arms and the faint smell of vanilla perfume. 

 

“Rose?” A shocked voice asks and yep, that’s definitely female. Now that she thinks about it, the voice is definitely  _ familiar _ as well, even though she hasn’t heard it in months.

 

_ Allison?  _

 

Rose opens her eyes and straightens up immediately, dropping her hands as if they were burned from the contact. She can’t help herself however, and meets Allison’s eyes. The taller girl’s hair is shorter now, dancing along the bridge of her collarbones and loosely curled. She wears a jean jacket and a olive, flowy dress paired off with distressed brown ankle boots. Rose wants to punch her and cry all at once, because she looks  _ normal and pretty _ and not like her friend turned crazy hunter that almost killed half her  _ friends _ . She looks nothing like the monster that put arrow after arrow into her best friend’s body and then let her fucked up grandfather tie her and Boyd up in the basement. 

 

She looks nothing like the girl who ran after Rose into said basement to find Stiles on the ground, beaten to a bloody pulp by Gerard Argent. 

 

Rose shuts her eyes and sucks in a deep breath.  _ Breathe, Rose, breathe. They can hear your heartbeat, you don’t want to worry them.  _

 

_ I can totally handle this. _

 

After a moment, when she feels like the anger is tucked back into a box in her head, tightly shut, she opens her eyes. Allison’s still there, but this time the surprise has been wiped off her face and replaced with a frown that causes worry lines to appear on her forehead. 

 

_ Good _ , Rose thinks, full of resentment and the box that she’s squeezed her anger into starts to rattle.

 

“Are you alright? It was an accident,” She says, and for some reason that has a laugh, half bitter and half hysterical, escaping Rose’s lips. 

 

_ If only everything else you’ve done was just an accident _ , Rose thinks darkly. She shakes her head, and ignores Allison’s deepening frown. 

 

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” she manages to say.  _ Don’t worry about all the destruction you’ve caused. It’s fine, you ran away from your problems.  _

 

_ You just left us to deal with it. _

 

Before she even realizes it, Allison’s grabbing her arm and quickly guiding them to the side of the hallway, out of the traffic of students. Rose tugs out of her hold as soon as they’re in the clear, and forces her traitorous heart not to waver when the other girl’s eyes swim with hurt. 

 

“Rose, I _ had  _ to leave. There wasn’t any other way,” Allison starts off with, crossing her arms over her chest. Rose’s eyes narrow.  _ Really? That’s what she’s going with? _

 

“You could’ve stayed. You could’ve tried to fix things.” She doesn’t say the other things, like the sadness in Scott’s eyes, or Lydia’s newfound trust issues. Or the way Erica flinches at the sight of arrows and duct tape, or Stiles’ frequent panic attacks...

Rose knows that maybe not all of it is Allison’s fault… But still. A small, childish part of her refuses to let it go. The part of her that even after three months, never really got closure.

 

_ She was our friend, and she almost killed Erica. _

 

Allison sighs, a deep heavy sound. “It was best for everyone that I left. I needed to figure things out. I needed to figure  _ myself _ out.” There’s a pleading tone to her voice, almost earnest, and it just makes Rose's skin crawl. 

 

“Yeah, I can see how going off the deep end and trying to pull off a werewolf massacre can lead to a self-searching journey,” she practically hisses, and there’s a split second of heart-wrenching sadness that cascades across the other girl’s face before a fire burns it up. A fire that told Callie in harsh, monotone words that  _ You’re weak, a liability. Stay out of this Rose, or I won’t hesitate to take you out too.  _

 

The memory of it causes Rose to instantly shrink. She remembers it like it was yesterday, because she refused to leave Allison’s room, refused to leave her alone in her misery because her mom just  _ died _ . Something snapped in her friend that night. Something that she had never seen before, and was terrified to witness it again. 

 

“Rosalie, you don’t know what you’re even talking about,” Allison says, making the words sickly sweet and condescending, as if the other girl is a little child who dared to stick their hand in the cookie jar. 

 

She cringes at the use of her full name. Allison’s pink mouth stretches in a smug smirk of victory. Rose's eyes dart around frantically, trying to find an escape route. The packs of students are rapidly diminishing as they enter their classrooms, and she faintly wonders why the bell hasn’t rung yet. 

 

_ Then again, if I punched her in her pretty face there wouldn’t be any witnesses.  _

 

“Look, I’m going to be late,” she mutters, trying to force back down the urge. Rose goes to step past the taller girl but Allison quickly blocks her path.

 

“Oh, that’s right. Perfect  _ Rosalie  _ with the perfect grades and perfect attendance. You would never be late to class,” She mocks. The words hit Rose like knives, digging and twisting into her heart.

 

_ It’s always the ones we keep close that know how to rip us apart.  _

 

Rose slowly raises her head, and forces herself to lock eyes with Allison. Her chin is tilted up arrogantly, her shoulders straight-too straight, almost stiff in their elegant composure. She wants to say anything, anything to prove that Allison hasn’t affected her  _ at all _ and not run away. Or possibly tackle the huntress to the ground and ruin that bomb ass hair cut. 

 

However, before she can make a choice there’s an arm wrapping protectively around her shoulders. Callie startles and Allison takes a step back. Callie twists her head to see Isaac, the muscle in his jaw jumping. He doesn’t look at her, his arm trembling slightly on her shoulders and she can see the gold in his eyes. Not good, definitely  _ not  _ good. However she can’t help but sag into him gratefully, relieved that she’s not faced with the huntress alone. 

 

“Shouldn’t you be in a mental institution, dealing with your psychotic killer tendencies?” Isaac snipes, throwing the huntress a predatory smile. Allison stiffens in defense but her response is all bite. 

 

“Careful, Isaac. Shouldn’t you be in therapy for child abuse?” 

 

Isaac’s whole body shudders at that. Callie feels the press of claws at her shoulder blade.

 

She twists so that she’s right in front of him and reaches up to place her hands on either side of his face. “Hey, look at me,” she commands but her voice shakes. Isaac’s eyes are a golden storm, his jaw clenched tight. A moment passes, feels like forever as she gently tugs his head down to her own. He finally lets her, his seething glare sending chills down her spine. She knows it’s not meant for her, knows it when those golden eyes immediately soften back to their human blue.

 

Rose feels herself smile, just a little when his face relaxes, his gaze skimming over the planes of her flushed face before locking with her eyes once more. It’s too much, what she feels, so she breaks the intense stare and presses her cheek against his chest, feels his heart’s anxious pace slow down to a normal one. She sighs in relief, and the way his hand squeezes her side feels like a  _ thank you _ . 

 

It’d be bad if a werewolf/huntress fight broke out in a school where as far as everyone else is concerned, the only supernatural myths are in the dog eared copies of the  _ Twilight  _ saga that rest in the library. 

 

“Rosalie, you should’ve learned from me. Never get involved with a wolf.” Allison says, her tone calm and detached at the same time. Rose tries her best to ignore her, focuses on the way Isaac’s beats become steadier with each passing, his shallow breaths evening out, and the claws retract, replaced by blunt nails. 

 

_ Thank god,  _ she thinks in relief, sighing. 

 

Reluctantly, Rose pulls her head up to meet Allison’s emotionless mask of a pretty face.  _ She’s still gotta be in there. Right?  _

 

There’s still a part of Rose that wants to believe that their Allison is still there, that maybe she’ll come back with hugs and apologies but right now… She doesn’t want to deal with this cold, harsh robot. That looks just like the girl who burns pancakes and laughed at all of Stiles’ cheesy jokes. 

 

Rose decides to press the trigger. She’ll regret it later, but no one hurts Isaac like that.  _ Not anymore. _

 

“You know what I’ve learned from you?”

 

The bell rings. She’s never been late to class but she finds that she doesn’t really care at the moment. There's something about Isaac's hand trailing up and down her back that makes her feel like she can do anything today. She’s going to definitely think about all of _ this _ later, when she’s not scared out of her mind.

 

Allison cocks her head to the side and waits, her expression blank of any emotion. It reminds Rose a lot of Victoria Argent, and she can’t help the twinge of sadness that tightens around her heart. 

 

“The strong ones stay. The ones who own up to what they’ve done. But you? You’re just a coward.” Rose states boldly. Allison’s eyes glazed over in what could be tears is enough for her to feel vindicated and just a tiny bit like shit. 

 

This time, when Rose tries to leave, Allison lets her. Isaac bares his fangs at her when she watches them, and  _ thank god  _ no one is in the hallway at the moment. The brunette doesn’t say anything, but looks away after that, spinning on her heel and walking the opposite way. 

 

“I’m sorry about that. Now you’re late and Granger is probably going to write you up,” Rose mumbles, her cheeks heating up as she realizes that Isaac’s arm is still curled around her shoulders, and her fingers are making a home in his shirt. She’s about to pull away when he responds. 

 

“Don’t be stupid. It was worth it,” He says nonchalantly, and Rose can’t help herself but look at him with a rushing hit of affection. Sweet Isaac, who she’s been crushing on all summer but can’t seem to do anything about it, because it wasn’t too long ago when Isaac wouldn’t let anyone touch him, who always sat on the edge of chairs and couldn’t meet your eyes. 

 

But here he was, holding her like it was easiest thing in the world. She lets herself enjoy it a little bit longer, and feeling bold, cranes her neck to press a kiss to his cheek. 

 

“Thank you,” She whispers, before leaning her head against his chest. She glances up at him to see his cheeks flushing a dark shade of red, and bites back a smile. 

 

She feels his hand come up to lightly tug on a lock of her hair. 

 

“Welcome.”

  
  


*****

Jackson’s voice suddenly appears out of nowhere just after she sits down for lunch.  

 

“I heard that you had a run-in with little miss psycho today.” 

 

Rose jumps, eyes pulling away from her book to watch his handsome, smirking form take a seat across from her. Despite the amused set of his features as he plucks an apple off his tray, his shoulders are lined with tension.

 

However, Rose decides to play along and lets her fingers skim over the page of the book and land onto her lunch tray where her M&M’s sit, half eaten. “Jax, your creeping tendencies are getting really old,” she replies airly, and waits till he bites into his apple to chuck a blue orb of candy at him. She can’t help but giggle as his eyes go cross-eyed watching the candy zoom at him and then hit him square in the forehead. 

 

He lets out a growl and drops his apple to search for where it went, mumbling something like  _ “Why do I even bother,”  _  when the click-clack of high heels approaches the table. It's Erica, the toss of blonde curls unmistakeable and the smell of her infamous spicy perfume permeates the air immediately. 

 

“Are you okay? That bitch didn’t hurt you, did she?” Her best friend’s questions are filled with worry and an undercurrent of rage that makes goosebumps prickle on Rose’s arms. The girl quickly shakes her head, and reaches for one of Erica’s hands when she slides in beside her. 

 

“Nah, besides, Isaac was there. I’m  _ fine _ .” she leans her head on the blonde’s shoulder. Erica presses her cheek against her best friend's hair, just for good measure.

 

Erica frowns.“I wish I had been there.” Rose merely shakes her head again, and squeezes her hand before letting go. Jackson seems to have given up on finding the M&M, and is starting back on his apple again. Sneakily, Rose passes Erica a handful of candy and nods her head in Jackson's direction. Erica smiles evilly, cherry red lips glinting in the fluorescent lights. She pops a few into her mouth before picking a green one. 

 

Erica has managed to hit Jackson in the chest, cheek, and nose by the time Scott, Stiles, and Isaac arrive at the table. Stiles starts to cackle hysterically as he takes in Jackson’s red face and pout as the last M&M is pelted at him. 

 

“You guys were annoying Jackson without me? I thought we shared the same goal.” Stiles shakes his head, smirking ear to ear as he barely dodges Jackson’s jab. Isaac rolls his eyes, quietly taking the seat next to Rose. When his shoulder brushes hers, a blush immediately heats her face and her heartbeat speeds up.  _ Great, he’ll never notice that _ .

 

Scott pats Jackson’s shoulder and flicks Stiles’ ear, making sure to sit between the two of them so that a fight won’t break out. Unfortunately, that could never stop Stiles, but it’s a nice precaution, just in case. Boyd and Lydia follow a few minutes later, the two in a deep discussion that Rose only hears a mutter of, something about Trig. Her curiosity immediately vanishes, and instead she focuses on how annoyingly good Isaac smells and the side glances that Scott keeps throwing her way. 

 

She’s hoping to avoid that conversation, but Rose has never had the best luck.

 

It proves to be true in seventh period study hall when he takes his usual seat beside her, his backpack slamming on the table. She startles, fumbling to pause her music. Her book is a lost cause; the page that she was on is now gone. He scoots closer, dark eyes searching her own intently. 

 

“So, what did she say? Did she want anything? Why-” she cuts off his parade of questions with her hand. Rose raises an eyebrow at Scott’s surprise, forcing back a giggle when he rolls his eyes and tugs her hand off of his mouth. “Sorry. But-” he starts to say but she shushes him, points to the front of the room. 

 

He narrows his eyes before following her finger to an exasperated Mrs. Martinez staring at him. He immediately mumbles another sorry and slumps in his seat. Rose sighs, presses ‘play’ on her phone and takes out her notebook. Clicking her pen, she writes, tries to put down the gist of what happened but also trying not to hurt Scott with, well… the new Allison. 

 

She pushes it towards him when she’s done, laying the pen on top of the paper. He quickly sits up, eyes scanning the paper. 

 

_ I accidentally bumped into her in the hallway. I said some things, she said some things, Isaac intervened. She was mean; I was mean back. Then Isaac and me walked away because we were late. Let’s just say that things between us aren’t exactly on the mend. _

 

_ No, she didn’t mention you, Scott. Sorry. _

 

Allison’s words echo in her head, cold and condescending.

 

_ “Rosalie, you should’ve learned from me. Never get involved with a wolf.” _

 

She watches as Scott’s whole body stiffens, his hands curling into fists. Hesitantly, she reaches a hand out, presses it in between his shoulder blades. She leaves it there, doesn’t say a word, and waits for the exhale of a breath that had been held in for too long. It’s a long moment until Scott shakily picks up Rose’s pen, and begins to scribble across the page. He sends the notebook back to her and hides his face in the crook of his arm.

 

Slowly, she removes her hand and leans in to see what he wrote back. 

 

**_Was she_** and **_Why did you_** are crossed out. 

 

**_What did you say?_ **

 

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering if the truth makes her feel guilty enough to lie.  _ Oh, the hell with it. _

 

_ Basically she tried to apologize but I couldn’t listen to it. I told her that she ran away from her problems, from us. She didn’t like that too much, and then Isaac was trying to protect me. That got ugly. I got upset because she hurt him so I told her that she was a coward for leaving. _

 

She passes back the notebook and lightly pokes his arm with the pen before placing it on top of the paper. After a moment, she sees him move out of the corner of her eye. She then decides to focus back on her book, finding where she left off. Rose finishes the chapter and it about to start on the next one when she feels Scott’s eyes on her. She pauses, glances over to see the notebook pushed to her side of the table. 

 

He wrote:  **_Would it have been better if she stayed?_ **

 

Rose sighs, flipping the corner of the page to keep her place this time. There's no definite answer in this, not really. If she had stayed… Well… She doesn't know how the others would've handled it. Rose writes back but it doesn't feel like enough. 

 

_ I… I don’t know. Maybe.  _

 

Scott reads her response immediately, pushing a hand through his hair before picking up the pen. What he says back makes her feel horrible. 

 

**_I miss her._ **

 

Rose misses her too, wishes that they could go back, that Gerard never came into their lives, that Allison’s Mom was still alive. 

 

_ I know. I do too.  _

 

She reaches over and squeezes his arm. He sighs, places a hand over her own and holds it there for a moment before letting go. 

 

**

“I  _ hate _ her.”

 

“You’ve assigned your locker a gender now? It’s metal, Erica. You shouldn’t push societal norms on an object.” 

 

She can  _ feel  _ her best friend’s fiery glare drilling holes into her head. Rose bites back a smile, because at least she enjoyed herself. 

 

“This isn’t funny, Rose. I can’t- I  _ don’t _ want her anywhere near us,” Erica fumes, slamming her locker door shut with a loud  _ BANG! _ that threatens to break the poor thing off of its hinges. Rose startles at the noise, dropping her Trig notebook to the floor. Before she can even think about reaching down for it, Erica’s already picked it up and pushed it back into her slack hands. 

 

Rose sighs, shakily curling her fingers around a notebook that she’d rather leave on the dirty hallway floor than bring it home do do work in. “Look, Erica-” she pauses to meet her best friend’s eyes. They are their normal chocolate brown, but something in Rose knows that they were probably close to gold just seconds ago. “I don’t want her around either. But there’s not too much we can do. We’ll see her here, and if she puts herself back into werewolf business-” Erica cuts her off with a low growl that causes an icy shiver to race down Rose’s spine. 

 

“If she’s within breathing distance I’ll slash her throat with my claws,” Erica growls, showing a hint of deadly fangs that would do the job just as well. Rose’s eyes widen, not in surprise, because she  _ knows _ that the revenge for what Allison did to her and Boyd ran so deep that if a chance was found… Erica might make a choice she wouldn’t be able to come back from. 

 

She hastily shoves her notebook back into her locker in order to place her hands on Erica’s shoulders, squeezing them tight enough that the raging bombshell deflates under the pressure. It’s disconcerting to realize that if Erica was still human, Rose’s grip might actually hurt her, but now it’s just a weight pressing into her skin. 

 

“Goldilocks, remember that we’re surrounded by people who don’t even think that it’s possible for you to do that, but if they see a flash of those wolf eyes of yours, they might reconsider,” Rose warns gently, staring into those angry gold eyes that could destroy a man just by looking at them. It takes a moment, one that’s too tense and fueled with so much rage and hurt that Rose wishes she could take all of it from Erica and carry within herself, but life doesn’t work that way. 

 

Erica must find something in Rose’s face, something to pull herself back, for the blonde suddenly deflates, leaning forward to rest her forehead on Rose’s collarbone. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles against Rose’s shirt, and Rose quickly shakes her head and wraps her arms around her best friend, doing her best to ignore the curious pairs of eyes watching them from a distance. Honestly, if their peers didn’t see Erica latch herself to Boyd any chance she got, they would definitely think that Erica and Rose had been an item for quite some time now. If only things had been that simple.  _ If we ever dated, we would’ve killed each other,  _ Rose thinks fondly, fighting back a giggle. 

 

Erica’s arms snake around Rose’s waist and she squeezes just tight enough to yank a breath out of her best friend’s lungs before pulling back, her face calmer than before. There’s still a fire in those brown eyes, but it’s been quelled for now. 

 

“I fully get that we’re gonna have to deal with her and her bag of crazy in the future,” Erica snorts in disgust, and Rose has to clap a hand over her mouth to hide her grin. “But… I won’t lose it here. I promise, Rose.” Erica offers her a tiny smile, the one that Rose knows it’s just for her. Rose can trust in that smile, has always been able to. A grin flutters at Rose’s mouth in response, and she lets it rest there for a moment as she turns back to her locker to grab the rest of her stuff. 

 

“By the way,” Rose calls over shoulder, grabbing her history textbook, “I would be right there with you with a body bag.” Rose shuts her locker door and spins back around, zipping her backpack up the rest of the way. It only takes Erica a second to realize what Rose was referring to and then a raspy laugh reaches Rose’s ears. 

 

Rose can’t help but shrug and smile again, slipping her backpack over one shoulder. Erica moves to slip her arm through hers, laughter coating her words as she drags Rose down the hallway. 

 

“Sooo, when are we gonna talk about that guy-umm, tall, adorable blonde curls, pretty blue eyes to drown in-” Rose groans, shoving Erica as she breaks into a fit of giggles, dragging herself back to Rose’s side. 

 

Allison looks up when the two girls walk past her, hears the echoes of Rose’s embarrassed complaints and Erica pushing her best friend’s buttons even further. She tilts her head, watching the two girls, attached at the hip meet up with Boyd and Isaac at the end of the hallway. A hollow ache starts in her heart when she sees Erica launch herself at Boyd, the hulking mass of muscle having no problem in catching her with ease. 

 

Unable to keep her eyes there when Erica’s mouth meets Boyd’s smiling one, her gaze shifts to Isaac tucking a stray lock of hair behind Rose’s ear. She blushes, poking him in the chest and he acts like she’s almost toppled him over. For a second it looks like Rose almost believes it, for her fingers grasp at his shirt and pull him into her space. The laugh that Allison saw on Isaac’s features stops and softens into a smile that she used to know very well on another boy’s face. Hesitantly, Isaac places his hands on the span of Rose’s waist, burying his face in her thick straight hair. 

 

Allison can’t even help herself now, so she shuts her locker door and leans her body against it in defeat. By now, Erica has jumped down from Boyd’s arms and the two are now looking at the embraced couple beside them. Shame suddenly fills Allison, for the words that she said earlier, for the way she watched Isaac’s face crumple and harden at what she sniped at him. 

 

_ Never get involved with a wolf.  _

 

Oh, if she could only tell Rose was she  _ really _ meant. 

 

Slowly, Isaac and Rose pull away from each other, but the sure way Isaac reaches for Rose’s hand causes Allison’s vision to blur. 

 

_ Don’t get involved with a wolf, Rose, because when you do you’ll never want anyone else.  _

 

_ It’ll feel like you could never be this happy and never this miserable for the rest of your life.  _

 

Allison blinks back unwanted tears and casts her eyes to the ceiling, because she’s already seen too much, her ‘unbreakable’ resolve already cracking at the edges. 

  
_ It’s better this way.  _


	7. Serious Talks and Realizations at Diners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, a few days later after the last part I would say? These two parts in this one, are each two or three days apart.

“So do we just avoid her? Like, is that how we’re going about this?” Rose asks not-so-innocently from the loft’s kitchen. She turns on the oven light and peers through the small window, noticing that the peanut butter cookies are a nice golden brown. A victorious smile tugs at her mouth. 

 

As she reaches for the oven mitt on the counter, Derek appears, arms crossed tight over his chest. She spares him a quick glance, spotting that his handsome face is pinched in annoyance, but she knows him better now to see the worry in his intense hazel eyes. She looks away in order to pull out the cookies, settling the sheet on top of the oven. She flicks off the oven and starts taking them off- gently, so she doesn’t break them. The only other person that she trusts to do this is Boyd, who is surprisingly careful despite his giant hands.

 

She hears approaching footsteps, and then Derek’s there, right at her shoulder. She hears him sniff and she laughs, lightly shoving him back with her free hand. “I don’t care that your tongue won’t feel the effects of the hot cookie burning it; you’re waiting for these to  _ cool _ , like a normal person,” she chides. He lets out an affronted huff behind her. 

 

“But these are  _ my  _ cookies,” he grumbles, still hovering. Rose rolls her eyes fondly and shakes her head in amusement, taking off the last cookie. This side of Derek was still new to be around; the one that grumbled over cookies and actually had a kitchen to bake them in. Well,  _ Rose _ baked them, but the fact that Derek Hale lived in a functioning apartment was a definite improvement from the less-than-desirable train depot that he had been crashing at. She shakes those sad thoughts off for the moment, because they’re past that now. 

 

_ Well, for the most part. _

 

With a heaving sigh, she spins around to face him. “You didn’t answer my question, Der.” She levels him with a raised eyebrow. Derek’s jaw tightens, any playfulness from their recent exchange gone. “She’s not to be trusted,” he says curtly, using his alpha glare. She immediately holds her hands up in mock surrender, still wearing the oven mitt. “Got that memo months ago. It’s just, I don’t know… today I couldn’t help but feel...” she trails off, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

Derek notices it, his glare softening into one of his more neutral ones. His thick brows furrow; however, his words that follow come out confused. “Feel what?”

 

Rose shrugs, playing with the frayed edges of the oven mitt. “Guilty.” She looks down, her heart feeling very heavy all of a sudden. “I mean, I know that she messed up, and I’m still pissed at her for  _ everything _ , but Der-” she sucks in a shaky breath. Derek sighs, and then his hand is reaching out to her, his knuckles skimming just under her chin. He gently tilts her head up to make eye contact with him. It’s funny; she almost expected him to be furious with her, but instead he’s just concerned. 

 

“What is it?” he asks softly, and his touch soothes her nerves more than any deep breath ever could. While Rose is not a wolf, and never plans to be, she can’t help but think Derek’s alpha powers work on her, Lydia, and Stiles just as much as the others. It’s nice, makes her feel like she belongs. After a moment, she exhales, giving him a small smile. 

 

He manages a slight twist of his lips as he drops his hand. With that, she finishes what she was saying. “Derek, she was sad. And maybe I’m just reading too far into things-” she purses her lips when he opens his mouth to argue. He grunts, shutting his trap. “But there was a moment where I really wondered if she felt bad, after everything. That Allison-”

 

This time, Derek does cut her off. “Grief changes a person, Rosie. She’s not the same person that she was, and she never will be again.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, red pushing through hazel before he shuts them tight. Something in Rose’s heart breaks at the sight of him, broad shoulders slumped, full lips pulled into a tight frown, the lines on his forehead seeming to deepen.

 

_ Who were you before all of this, Derek? _

 

_ Did your smiles come easy? Did you ever look over your shoulder? Were your eyes always so haunted? _

 

They were questions that she’d never dare ask, for they weren’t for her to know the answer to. Instead, she slips off the oven mitt, drops it off on the counter, and closes the distance between them in order to place her hands on his shoulders.

 

She waits till he opens his eyes again, now back to their mossy golden color. It’s a relief, but the absence of red causes the reappearance of the grief he had just mentioned moments ago. In that second, Rose would do anything to take it all away; those eyes might haunt her forever, for they are the epitome of losing everything trapped inside such a beautiful color. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice struggling to remain even. Derek must catch something in her words, for he pulls her closer, strong arms fitting awkwardly around her waist. 

 

Rose lets out an ‘oof’ of surprise that gets muffled into Derek’s chest. “You guys help me every day, Rose. You don’t… the fact that I have this, that I have a chance at this again…” he trails off, sounding unsure and very, very vulnerable. It’s part of what makes Rose hug him back, squeezing him as tight as she can manage without bruising herself.

 

_ … that I have a chance at this again… _

 

There’s so much that she wants to say, but she doesn’t think that the words would come out quite right. Instead she settles on a soft, “You’re welcome.”

 

When the two finally pull away there’s something different, an understanding that wasn’t there before. And maybe it causes Rose to be a bit of a pushover, for she passes Derek three cookies before shooing him out of the tiny kitchen. 

**

 

“ _ She’s here _ .” Erica hisses through her teeth, her red nails digging painfully into Rose’s arm. Rose winces and slows down, letting Lydia and Stiles go ahead as they bicker over a PreCalc test. 

 

“Who?” She whispers, eyes skirting over the people in the diner, before landing on a laughing girl in a booth with a blonde haired guy. _ Allison. _

 

It was weird, seeing her happy. It was almost as if Rose had forgotten that Allison could look like that. Happy and carefree and pretty, sitting in a booth with a cute boy and just… being.

 

“Oh,” she mumbles, trying to pull her curious gaze away but unable to do so. This summer had changed things, changed them. Rose, for some reason, never expected the Allison that she last saw could still be the friend that she’d known before. 

 

“Yeah. We should leave.” 

 

“What? Why?” Rose turns to her best friend, who looks seconds away from wolfing out. Not good. Definitely  _ not  _ good. She places a hand on her best friend’s arm, digging her fingers into the leather jacket. “Calm down Erica. She isn’t a threat. At least not at the moment. I think she’s on … a date.” 

 

Erica shakes her head, eyes flashing yellow, before returning to their normal brown color. “It doesn’t feel safe when she’s around.” 

 

Rose sighs and weaves an arm through Erica’s. 

 

“Hey guys? You coming?” Stiles hollers from a table by the window, wiggling his fingers. Lydia flicks her hair behind her shoulder and gives them an appraising look. 

 

“Too late to leave now.” Rose mumbles. Erica breathes harshly through her nose, and tugs her friend over to the booth. 

 

Erica makes sure to sit on the side facing where Allison and the door is, her posture stiff and alert. Lydia simply ignores it and looks through the menu even know they all know she’s going to order what she always does: a chicken salad and an ice tea. 

 

Stiles nudges Rose lightly when she sits down, before she feels the graze of his lips at her ear. 

 

“Why does the blonde wrecking ball look like she’s going to murder someone?”

 

Rose sighs, and leans her head on his shoulder for a moment to look casual. “Allison’s here.”

 

She feels his body tense up for a second, before relaxing. 

 

“Oh. Maybe we should leave? Y’know, for safety purposes?” He mutters back, drumming his fingers on the plastic table. 

 

She spots him eyeing the salt shaker and passes it to him silently, knowing that he needs something to keep his hands occupied before they start picking apart the poor table. One time the waitress caught Stiles peeling off a giant piece of the lamination, and they were almost kicked out. 

 

Rose sighs and watches Stiles pass the glass shaker between the cage of his long fingers. “But we’re already here, you know? Allison wouldn’t make a scene, and I don’t think she’d hurt us.” Beside her, Stiles tenses up again, suddenly clenching the shaker in a fist. 

 

“We can’t trust her, you know that. She went all psycho killer on us just a few months ago!” He whispers fiercely and Rose’s eyes widen, a flush appearing on her cheeks as she sits up. 

 

“Shhh, Stiles!” She warns quietly, placing a hand over his bound fist. Almost immediately, he lets go of the tiny object, the cursive  _ S _ leaving an indentation on his palm. 

 

Stiles takes a deep breath, and then another. “Sorry,” he manages to say around another lungful, and Rose looks on with concern.

 

Lydia’s calculating purr of a voice breaks through the moment.“What are you two talking about?” Her green eyes narrow in on the two of them. Stiles opens his mouth, probably to offer up an elaborate excuse, but Erica cuts to the chase.

 

“Allison’s here.” She deadpans, running a hand through her curled hair. Lydia’s face smoothes out into a blank mask, all traces of curiouscity gone. She leans back in the booth and crossing her arms. 

 

“Oh. whatever. Seriously, where is the waitress? Hello?” She raises her voice and snaps her fingers, quickly changing the subject.  

 

Stiles shakes his head and snickers, while Erica rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. 

 

_ Lydia will be Lydia _ , Rose thinks. She grabs a sugar packet and throws it at her redheaded friend. It hits her in the chest, and Stiles laughs and leans into Rose. Lydia stares at her, open mouthed, while Erica stills taps away at her phone, used to their antics. 

 

Just then the waitress arrives, and hastily takes their orders. The flustered woman leaves after being chastised by Lyds, the four fall into their usual patterns. Lydia and Stiles fight over who did better on their homework. Lydia usually does a point or two better, and it never fails to makes Stiles a mix of awed and outraged at the fact. Whenever the argument starts to settle, Erica interjects a snarky comment or two that immediately sets them off again.

 

Rose rolls her eyes and while her and Erica talk about their upcoming trip to the beach, she notices that her best friend is only half-listening. The blonde’s big brown eyes are unfocused, and the way she’s hunched in the seat, it’s as if she’s ready to slide on out into a defensive crouch.

 

There’s nothing Rose can do to quell her best friend’s nerves, or stop the way Stiles’ gaze darts between Lydia’s moving hands and Allison’s booth in front of them. After a little while, Rose excuses herself  to go to the bathroom. Stiles whines that she’s leaving him to the wolves. 

 

Literally. 

 

“Batman, I remember when you used to literally fall over yourself to sit next to us. My, how times have changed.” Erica smirks deviously, a curled lock falling down her cheek.

 

“You’re not scared of us, are you, Stiles? I thought you were into that,” Lydia adds, and cackles when Stiles flails around, blushing and mumbling about why doesn’t anyone love him. 

 

Rose can’t help but smile at them, shaking her head as she leaves the table. Later, when she’s washing her hands, she looks in the mirror to see one of the stalls open and Allison coming out. She looks cute, wearing a dark blue sundress and a cropped jean jacket. She pairs it with black ankle boots and a silver pendant. Her Argent crest, actually. 

 

Instantly, Rose’s heart begins to race, fear coursing through her. She tries to force it all back, because this is public space, Allison wouldn’t, but the way they left things makes Rose wonder. Allison looks at her with a mix of uncertainty and coldness, before tearing her gaze away. She comes up beside Rose and turns on the sink, reaching for the soap dispenser. 

 

“I didn’t see you here. Who are you with?” Allison does a good job at sounding aloof and casual, but Rose  _ knows _ that Allison saw them. They’re kind of hard to miss, especially with the amount of noise Stiles makes just by existing. 

 

“Erica, Lyds, and Stiles.” Rose answers coolly, lathering up her hands, because there’s no point in lying. Allison’s face darkens, but she nods, turning on the water. 

 

“How’s your date going? He’s cute.” Rose says after a moment, turning off the water. For some reason, it doesn’t come out as malicious as she’d thought the words would sound. For some part of Rose still genuinely cared about Allison’s happiness, and that shocked her. 

 

Allison shrugs, but it comes out too stiff to be nonchalant. “Fine I guess. He’s the son of one of my Dad’s friends. They’ve been trying to set us up together for awhile, and I thought, why not?” 

 

Rose hits off the water, and maybe she rips the paper towel off the dispenser a bit too harsh. Behind her, Allison sighs, and it’s the guiltiest that Rose has heard her sound since she’s come back.

 

_ But what about Scott, Ally? What about him? _

 

_ What about the boy who’s still head over heels for you. And might always be.  _

 

Rose crumples the paper towel into a ball and chucks it into the trash can. When she turns around, Allison is staring right at her, arms crossed over her chest. She stands tall, but for the first time, Rose can see the slight weariness in her posture.  

 

“I hope you have a good time,” Rose says softly and doesn’t smile, for if she did, it would just turn into a frown. Allison opens her mouth and nothing comes out, her fingers digging into her elbows. 

 

A stand-still.

 

Rose shuts her eyes and turns back around, reaching for the door handle. Just as her hand touches cool metal, Allison’s voice erupts behind her, full of frustration.

 

“Why would you say that?”

 

Rose sighs roughly and doesn’t turn back. 

 

“Because a part of me still thinks you deserve to be happy. And if that’s not with us, then so be it,” Rose replies, the words tumbling out before she can even try to take them back.

 

They had been honest, maybe too honest. But Rose was tired of fighting and lies. 

  
“Thanks, Rose. That means a lot,” Allison’s voice is small and quiet, and for a second, Rose almost turns around to see what her face looks like. Instead, she straightens her shoulders, and twists the knob, leaving the bathroom and Allison behind. 


End file.
